


As Real As We Are

by redthoughts



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Apologies, Christmas, Coming Out, Dark Mark, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fake Dating, Fake Dating Turns To Love, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, Famous, First time writing, Fluff, Forgiveness, Friendship, Happy Ending, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Homophobia, Honesty, Hopefully This Will Cheer You Up, Love, M/M, Magical Tattoos, Malfoy Manor (Harry Potter), Rumours, Scars, Sectumsempra Scars, Some angst, Tattoos, They Are Surprisingly Honest With Each Other, Wholesome, eighth year, fake dating becomes real dating, some smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:27:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 29,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29548605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redthoughts/pseuds/redthoughts
Summary: Harry Potter just wants a quiet year at Hogwarts. Which, he realises, is not possible when your name is known all across Wizarding Britain and a group of girls follow you everywhere you go.Draco Malfoy just wants peace. Which, he realises, is not possible when everyone around you wants to hex you every time they see you.Harry has a solution, but Draco doesn't want to hear it.Will their fake relationship turn into true love?Of course, you already know the answer. ;)
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 89
Kudos: 232





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic and it's not the best so please be nice - I'm still improving! I mostly just wrote this to make myself feel better and to accomplish something. When writing, I tend to imagine Harry as brown and Hermione as black, as I think this is a more accurate representation of the world. I absolutely do not support JK Rowling so I loved making this fic as gay as possible. This fic does include coming out, as do most of the fics I'm working on; I don't think all gay stories need to mention coming out - in fact, its usually better if they don't - however, I'm currently in the process of coming out myself and I liked writing a story I could relate to. Enjoy!

Harry entered the library and took a deep breath, scanning the room until his eyes rested on Malfoy, sitting tucked away in the back corner, barely visible unless you knew where to look. And, well, Harry supposed he was just one of those people who knew where to look for Malfoy. He convinced himself it was a side effect of Malfoy’s suspicious behaviour in sixth year, but he really knew it was a product of his obsession. But he was past that.

He took another deep breath and shook his head, unable to believe he was about to do this, but began to walk towards Malfoy, nonetheless. His heart was racing faster with every step he took. By the time he made it to Malfoy’s table, he was convinced he was having a heart attack, but still smiled at the blonde boy when he looked up in confusion.

“Potter?” Malfoy’s brow was furrowed in confusion, and Harry was sure that a splash of fear filled Malfoy’s eyes for a moment. “What are you doing here?”

“Er…” Harry didn’t know where to begin. “Well, I… I need your help, Malfoy.”

Malfoy took a moment to take in what Harry had just said, before saying, in his ever-so-posh drawl, “Whatever do you need _me_ for?”

Harry inhaled sharply, looked around a few times, then sat down across from Malfoy. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Look, this is going to sound crazy.” Malfoy looked at Harry with a mix of confusion and distaste. “But I need you to… Well, I need someone to… It’s just I…”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, what is it?” Malfoy exclaimed loudly.

“Keep your voice down!” Harry whispered harshly.

“Why? Honestly, Potter, does it look like anyone even wants to be near me? Look at this table, it’s the biggest one in the whole fucking library, and yet its always empty, because everyone knows this is where I, the death eater, sits. And, oh goodness, look at that, no one is even daring to sit at the three other tables surrounding this one. So, I can guarantee you whatever it is you want to ask me will be staying between the two of us, because no one is around to hear.”

Harry stared, wide-eyed, at Malfoy for a few seconds.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Malfoy.”

Malfoy’s eyes widened, just slightly, before he quickly schooled his expression back to that of indifference. “Why? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” Malfoy’s voice had lowered, although Harry wasn’t sure if Malfoy was aware of this.

“No.” Harry decided that he needed to speak his mind, before even thinking to ask Malfoy for such a huge favour. “No, because even though you’ve done some shitty things in the past, at least you’ve apologised for them. But I… Well I’ve never apologised to you for how I was. I mean… I never even apologised for…” Harry couldn’t even bring himself to say it. “For what happened in sixth year. And I’m sorry, for all of it.”

Malfoy kept his eyes fixed on the table in front of him, and gave a small nod. “So, what did you want to ask me?” His voice was practically a whisper.

“Well, okay, don’t laugh. Please?”

“I can’t make any promises, Potter.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but continued anyway, ensuring his voice was as quiet as possible. “I need you to… pretend that we’re dating.” Harry said it in a rush, trying to stop himself from blushing and ultimately failing.

There was an extremely awkward silence where Malfoy’s eyes widened comically before he threw his head back and let out a laugh - a real, loud laugh - and Harry found himself wondering if he had ever seen Malfoy laugh before.

“What’s so funny?” Harry hissed.

“Well,” Malfoy spoke between laughs, clutching his stomach whilst doing so, “It’s just, you must be joking.”

Harry shook his head regretfully.

Malfoy stopped laughing.

“But… but… why?” Malfoy exclaimed.

Harry sighed, looking down at the table. “Ever since the war, it’s like no one will leave me alone. Everyone wants to ask me questions, or ask for an autograph, or… ask me out.” Harry shivered at the thought of the dozens of younger girls who followed him from class to class. Eighth year had become a very difficult year for Harry, simply because he had killed Voldemort. “And I didn’t know how to stop it. Until, I realised that everyone pretty much leaves you alone nowadays.”

Malfoy scoffed. “Yeah, aside from the hexes that get thrown at me on a daily basis.”

“Yeah, well, you see, I noticed that, too. But maybe, if people thought we were together, it would offer you some sort of protection. You know, me being the Chosen One and everything.” Harry hated that name, but he knew that it pissed Malfoy off.

Much to Harry’s satisfaction, Malfoy rolled his eyes. “But, why me? Surely you could have asked the girl Weasel instead?”

“Well, we sort of had an awkward breakup, so I don’t see that working out well.”

“Oh, so you see this working out better than that? I think you need to get you head checked, Potter.”

“Come on, Malfoy, you know it makes sense.” Malfoy began to open his mouth, so Harry quickly said, “It has to be a boy. You know it does. Otherwise all of those girls will think they still stand a chance.”

“Fine. That much makes sense, but still, why must it be me?”

“Because, out of everyone in this whole school, you are the most unexpected person for me to date.”

“So?”

“So… it’ll shock everyone enough to keep them away from me for a while. And, like I said earlier, everyone mostly ignores you.”

“Yes, and I like it that way.” Harry felt as though this wasn’t really the truth, but allowed Malfoy to continue anyway. “All this will do is bring more attention to me. Negative attention that I don’t particularly want, Potter. Not to mention the fact that I can’t have rumours about me being gay going around. My father would…” Malfoy stopped, seeming to remember who he was talking to. “It will hurt my reputation.”

“More than Voldemort losing the war did?”

Malfoy flinched at the use of Voldemort’s name. “Choose someone else.”

“There's no one else to choose. The boys in our year are either too close to me, would tell everyone the second I asked them, or aren't in school anymore. And I’m not going for anyone who’s younger than me, I’m not a pedo. Besides, there has to be absolutely no chance of me actually falling in love with my fake boyfriend.” Harry sighed. “It has to be you.”

Malfoy bit his lip. “Well, what would I get out of it?”

“I already told you. My protection. If we’re going to pretend that we’re dating, we’ll have to convince everyone that it’s real. Which will include me hexing anyone who hurts you. It’s a win-win situation.”

Malfoy glared at Harry.

“Fine, there are some downsides. But we both need this. And, if the world knows I’ve forgiven you, maybe they’ll start to forgive you, too.”

Malfoy scoffed. “Oh, so now you also have to pretend you’ve forgiven me? There’s no way you’d be able to keep this up, Potter.”

“I have forgiven you, Malfoy. That’s not a lie.”

Malfoy looked at Harry with a strange look on his face for a few moments, before sighing. “Fine. But, you know, people tend to buy their boyfriends gifts. Even the fake ones.” Malfoy smirked.

Harry laughed. “Okay, Malfoy. That’s fine by me.”

“So, how will we do this?”

“Well, we can’t tell anyone. Not even our friends, so that means you can’t be sending any letters to Parkinson or Zabini about this, okay?”

“As if I’m the one who needs to worry about keeping this from my friends. You still see your friends everyday, remember?”

“Yes, and I’ve already told them I’m into you.”

Shock took over Malfoy’s face.

“I’m serious about this, Malfoy. No one can know.”

Malfoy paused, then nodded.

They spent the rest of the day planning their fake relationship and only left each other when it was time for dinner. Their plan was already in motion.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a short chapter - sorry! The chapter lengths are really inconsistent, but most of the fic is already written so it will be updated regularly.

At dinner, Harry made sure to glance at Malfoy regularly enough that Hermione and Ron jumped in, their voices quiet.

“Harry, if you keep on looking at him, people will start to notice.” Hermione said, concern written on her face.

“Yeah, mate. You know we fully support you, but I don’t think many other people at Hogwarts will be all that welcoming. Especially because it’s him.”

Harry could hear the distaste in Ron’s voice as he spoke, but remembered he had to keep up appearances. 

“Right, yeah. Sorry.”

He knew that Hermione and Ron were concerned about him, but he still glanced at Malfoy a few more times, smiling whenever he met Malfoy’s gaze.

His efforts to get people to notice his behaviour started to pay off, as he felt multiple of his fellow Gryffindors’ eyes on him, and heard a few muttered whispers when Malfoy smiled back.

He could feel himself grinning. This might just work, he thought.

Looking up from his food, he was met with Hermione’s furrowed brows and Ron’s rushed stress-eating.

“Harry, be careful. Please.” Hermione said, her gaze fixed on Harry.

He nodded. “Of course.”

Before leaving the Great Hall to go back to the eighth year common room, he gave Malfoy one last glance and, feeling half the school’s eyes on him as he stood up, winked at him, grinned, and began to walk away as he heard a murmur of whispers spread through the hall.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Malfoy’s smirk. He supposed being famous wasn’t all that bad. After all, the news of their newfound ‘friendship’ would be all across Wizarding Britain by tomorrow. _Just wait until they see what we’ve planned next_ , Harry thought to himself, smiling the whole way back to the common room.


	3. Chapter 3

“Harry, please tell me you have a plan.” Hermione said, her voice full of concern.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, looking up from the blank piece of parchment that was supposed to be his potions essay.

He, Ron and Hermione were quietly studying in the eighth year common room. Well, actually, Hermione was quietly studying, whilst Harry and Ron had been staring at their books for about an hour, just waiting for Hermione to let them leave. 

It had been a week since Harry and Malfoy’s ruse had started, and since then they had been casting obvious glances when passing each other in the halls, waiting for the rumours to spread. There had already been at least two newspaper articles written about them, detailing their “budding friendship” and questioning if Malfoy was really a “worthy companion of the Chosen One”. However, for once, Harry was enjoying the attention. It meant that soon enough he would be able to travel the corridors in peace, and wouldn’t have to deal with any more adoring first years.

“I mean,” Hermione whispered harshly at Harry, “That people are beginning to talk.”

“About what?” 

“Harry,” Ron’s tone startled Harry slightly, “You know what.”

Harry took a deep breath. “Okay, I get that this could be dangerous. And, it doesn’t help that the newspapers are picking up on it,” He found it odd lying to his friends so blatantly, but continued all the same, lowering his voice to a whisper. “But I think that I could have a real chance. You know, with him.”

Hermione and Ron glanced at each other, sharing a look.

“Look, he doesn’t hate me anymore. And I think… I think we’ve both forgiven each other.”

“But, Harry,” Hermione said gently. “That doesn’t really mean much. Just because he doesn’t hate you anymore doesn’t mean anything will ever happen. There’s a long way to go between hate and… well… love.”

“Really? You see, I thought there was just a thin line between the two.” Harry smiled, but quickly found himself frowning again when he saw his friends’ faces. “Don’t worry about me, okay? You guys have done enough of that in your lifetime. I swear, you spend more time thinking about me than you do about each other - and you guys are dating!” He took a deep breath. Time to begin the next stage of their plan. “We’ve been… talking.”

“What do you mean talking?” A frown was still on Hermione’s face, but she looked rather intrigued.

“You know, having conversations? He’s been helping me a bit. With potions, as well as… other stuff.” Harry and Malfoy had made sure to chat in the corridors, so the whole school could see. “God knows I could use the help.”

Harry chuckled slightly, but quickly realised that he really could use the help. He cursed himself for thinking it, but he sort of wished this was real. He wished he could trust someone enough to let them help him.

“What sort of ‘other stuff’?” Ron’s voice was just above a whisper, but he made sure to look around him whilst speaking.

“You know, stuff to do with… the war.”

“Really?” Hermione’s voice was full of surprise. “That’s good, I suppose. But you know you can talk to us, right?”

“I know.” He took a deep breath. He knew that he’d be lying to his friends for the foreseeable future, but telling the truth was just as bad. “But, I don’t know… I suppose, talking to someone who wasn’t with me every step of the way is… good for me. And, don’t get me wrong, you guys are amazing. It’s just that… it’s less pressure, sort of.”

Ron and Hermione stared at Harry for a moment, before Ron finally spoke. “Okay, mate. Whatever you need.”

“Of course, Harry. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up. You know, just in case.”

“Yeah, Malfoy’s a pureblood. Purebloods need heirs. And, well, you can’t really give that to him. So, just be careful.” Ron gave Harry a smile and squeezed his shoulder.

There was silence between them for a minute, before Ron started moaning to Hermione, asking how much longer they had to study for, but Harry wasn’t really listening to what they were saying. He was too busy thinking about what Ron had just said.

Purebloods did need heirs. And Malfoy was the only person who could give his family one. Harry wondered what Lucius Malfoy would do when he heard the news. Luckily, he was in Azkaban, but Harry was sure he still had a lot of power over Narcissa. He suddenly felt very grateful for his and Malfoy’s agreement. It could cost Malfoy a lot.


	4. Chapter 4

The next stage of their plan was going well.

Harry and Malfoy made sure to be seen in the library together, making a big show of arriving together, or meeting each other there. Everywhere they went, there were whispers. However, Harry still found himself being followed by a gaggle of girls in the corridors, so he knew they would have to move their relationship on fairly quickly.

Although their friendship was fake, he found himself genuinely enjoying Malfoy’s company, which he thought was odd at first. Malfoy had actually started to help Harry with his potions work in the past few weeks that they had been spending together, and Harry was grateful for the help.

They were both sitting in the library, at Malfoy’s usual table. Although the surrounding tables had started to fill up more ever since they started being seen there together, the library was mostly empty, aside from a couple of other students that were sitting on the other side of the library. It was late at night and only eighth years had 24 hour access to the library. The lights were rather low, bright enough to read the books on the table, but still provided students with a level of privacy that many eighth years used to their advantage (particularly couples). 

Harry and Malfoy had been studying there all day, whilst many of their fellow students had chosen to spend their Saturday at Hogsmeade. They both knew that they didn’t really need to be there, as not many eyes would be on them. Harry told himself that any publicity was good publicity when it came to him and Malfoy, but even he recognised the fact that neither of them needed to be in there at 11pm, when the only other students in there had most definitely cast silencing charms and were likely pressed up against the bookshelves. But, to his surprise, he found himself not wanting to leave.

Malfoy had been telling Harry stories about his summer in France spent with Pansy and Blaise. He was a good storyteller, Harry thought. He added a dramatic touch to his stories that left Harry wheezing, and he told every little detail as though it was the most important part, running his sentences together until he’d almost forgotten what he was originally saying. He had already heard about Malfoy’s time spent at the nude beaches, where he found himself burnt in the most painful places possible, as well as his dinner with a most respectable French pureblood wizard who insisted on Malfoy staying the night and kept on trying to get into the guest bed with him (Harry almost pissed himself at that one - Malfoy’s French accent was spot on), as well as about ten other stories, each of which Harry loved as much as the last. Malfoy was currently talking about one of his nights out with Pansy and Blaise, and Harry was intently listening, his hand propping up his head as he leaned in to Malfoy to ensure he heard every part.

“So, there we were - at this blasted club that we had spent half of our money getting into, with our £15 watered down drinks in hand - when who should turn up, but Pansy’s ex!” Harry was surprised at how immersed Malfoy had become in muggle culture - most of his stories had nothing to do with magic. “Only, her ex walked in, already snogging some random girl. Of course, if you knew Pansy, you’d know how much she loathes all of her exes - except me of course, but that doesn’t really count -” Another thing Malfoy seemed good at was including information in his stories that required yet another story to understand, and when asked about it, he would go on to tell another story, and another one, and another one. Harry wondered why he kept on asking, but felt as though he knew the answer already - this was likely the most fun he’d had since the war that didn’t involve alcohol or sex. “And so, she walked right up to her ex, looked him dead in the eyes, poured her £20 drink on his trousers,” He was also good at exaggerating, “then went and snogged his new girlfriend. Of course, Pansy ended up going home with her, and her ex just had to deal with his soggy trousers all night while he called his girlfriend asking where she was. He never saw his girlfriend again - she was too busy shagging Pansy the whole time that she forgot to answer his calls!” Harry started laughing uncontrollably. He supposed it was a good story on its own, but the way Malfoy had told it, his eyes wide and his hair sort of ruffled from spending his whole day in one room, left Harry clutching his stomach.

They both laughed for a couple of minutes, every now and then commenting on the whole ordeal whilst trying not to fall off their chairs.

“So Pansy goes both ways?” Harry asked, trying to be casual about it. The truth was, he didn’t really know anyone who was into both men and women.

“Obviously, Potter, have you even met her?”

Harry chuckled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She loves women. Worships them, really. She talks about it constantly.”

Harry smiled at that. “She seems nice. And funny.”

“Funny, yes, but nice? Only to people she likes.”

“I think… I think her and I would get along, if circumstances were different.”

Malfoy nodded, an odd look in his eyes. “I think so, too.”

“I mean, look at us. Who would have thought?” Harry said it without thinking, but quickly realised he meant it.

“Indeed,” Malfoy said thoughtfully, “Who would have thought?” He repeated.

Harry sighed. “Well, maybe I’ll get to meet Pansy again, start over once she comes back from France. That’d be nice, I think. And after all, I would love to get along with someone else who likes men and women.” Harry’s eyes widened.

It had just slipped out, he hadn’t meant to say it. He was surprisingly used to telling Malfoy the truth now, and he had said too much. No one actually knew that about him. He supposed Ron and Hermione knew, except that what he had told them was fake. But, Malfoy? No, Malfoy wasn’t supposed to know - this would ruin everything, he was supposed to think Harry liking men was a lie.

Harry looked at Malfoy, expecting to see some sort of reaction. But instead, Malfoy just nodded. “Yeah, that would be nice. You know, you guys are actually sort of similar.”

Harry didn’t trust himself to speak anymore, he didn’t want to risk exposing himself again. “Really? How so?” His heart was beating fast, his breath was shaky and his face was hot.

“Well, it’s hard to say, really. Your… energies are sort of similar. It’s hard to describe, but I think you’d get on well.”

Harry nodded along, but his mind was elsewhere. He couldn’t believe he had just outed himself. His eyes were darting all around him and he couldn’t keep his hands from shaking.

“Potter? Are you okay?” Malfoy looked concerned.

“What?” Harry plastered a smile on. “Yeah, of course.”

Malfoy reached over and took Harry’s hand, much to Harry’s surprise.

“It’s okay.” Malfoy squeezed his hand, his voice gentle. “It’s alright if I’m the first person you’ve properly told. I won’t judge.”

“What?” Harry’s heart almost stopped. How could Malfoy know exactly what he was thinking?

“You seemed to panic, after you said you liked men and women. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. Besides, Potter, didn’t you know? We’re dating.”

Harry felt a wave of relief wash over him. He laughed loudly.

“God, it’s so stupid. The whole world’s about to know soon, anyway.”

Malfoy laughed. “Yeah, but this stuff isn’t rational. Seriously, don’t worry about it. It’s normal and you’ll be okay.” Malfoy gave Harry’s hand one last squeeze, then placed it down on the table with a smile.

Harry wanted to ask him how he knew it was normal, how he knew he’d be okay, but he suddenly realised just how close they were to each other. They usually sat across from each other during the day, but Harry had switched seats so that Malfoy could better explain their potions homework to him. He supposed, in the many hours since he had moved next to him, they had just kept on moving in closer, adjusting their seats to lean in to each other’s voices.

They were now practically sharing the same seat, but Harry didn’t mind. In fact, he wanted to move in closer, but before he could, he realised that Malfoy was already doing so. He looked at Malfoy’s face, at his eyes, and noticed that Malfoy’s eyes were focused on Harry’s mouth. 

Harry’s heart was beating fast. He leaned in closer, dropping his gaze to Malfoy’s mouth, and biting his lip for a moment. He could have sworn he heard Malfoy take a sharp breath when he released his lip from his teeth. Just as their lips were about to meet, they heard a noise, and they both jumped away from each other, looking up to see who was there.

It was a couple. They looked as though they were still in the middle of redressing as they walked out the library, and they were certainly too preoccupied with each other to notice anyone else was in there.

Harry didn’t know what to do. He looked at Malfoy, and Malfoy looked at him. They both knew they had messed up. They knew that kiss they were about to have was not fake. If it were fake, they would have gone through with it when they heard someone. But they didn’t.

Harry didn’t know what to say. But luckily, Malfoy began to speak.

“Well, I guess we should start calling each other by our first names, right, Harry?” Harry tried to pretend as though Malfoy saying his first name in that fucking posh accent didn’t turn him on. But Malfoy had provided them both with an out, and he had smiled at Harry as though nothing had changed. Maybe nothing had.

So Harry laughed. “I guess so, Draco. God, that feels weird to say.”

They both laughed, and decided it was too late to be in the library. They headed back to the eighth year dorms together, speaking as they normally did, and Harry decided to believe that they could go back to their fake relationship. As they went into their dorm rooms (another perk of eighth year - they had their own rooms), they said goodnight to each other and didn’t speak a word of what almost happened.

But, after that night, Harry never sat across from Draco again, he always took his seat next to him instead.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this fic sort of moves fast and its very unrealistic, but I wanted to write something that made me happy. As much as I love angst, I'm really into the wholesome moments right now, so I'm sorry if the angsty slowburn type fic is your thing!

A month or so had passed since Harry and Draco’s almost-kiss, and it was as though nothing had changed. Harry barely thought about it anymore, and it seemed as though Draco didn’t mind much either. After all, Harry thought, these things happen all the time. Friends sometimes kiss each other and it doesn’t mean anything. There had been plenty of nights out during the summer where Harry and his friends would snog each other and it was always completely normal afterwards.

To the rest of the world, Harry and Draco were still just friends - and Harry supposed they really were friends now, just enjoying each other’s company, rather than pretending to like each other - but Hogwarts had definitely picked up on the fact that they weren’t so keen on using their last names anymore. Hermione and Ron had asked Harry about Malfoy quite a lot, but after a while of Harry’s short replies, they decided to steer clear of the subject. He hated lying to them.

At least, for Draco, being friends with Harry had come with its benefits. Since they had started hanging out with each other, he had only been hexed a few times, and Harry had ensured that none of them would ever do so again, yelling all kinds of threats at them until they practically sprinted away to the sound of Draco cracking up (“You’ll kill them like you killed Voldemort?” He had wheezed to Harry later, his laughing distracting him from saying Voldemort’s name, “Isn’t that a tad far?”)

The next stage of their plan came into place when they went to Hogsmeade together on Saturday. Practically all of Hogwarts was there, and they decided it was the perfect time to take their fake relationship to the next level. They were sitting in the Three Broomsticks with most of the seventh and eighth years, enjoying a drink. They had chosen a table that was separate from everyone else, but still visible to most of the others - Harry decided it wasn’t quite time for Draco to be hanging out with all of his other friends yet but wanted to ensure that the rumours would be flying tomorrow.

After sitting and chatting for around half an hour, Harry started to move closer to Draco, whispering, “Are you ready?”

Draco just smirked and said, “Scared, Potter?”

Harry breathed a laugh. “You wish, Malfoy.”

Harry’s eyes darted from Draco’s eyes to his mouth a couple of times, before Draco leaned in, grabbed Harry’s face and kissed him, causing Harry’s eyes to flutter closed. Draco was a good kisser, Harry thought to himself, before realising that, holy shit, okay he’s going for tongue. Harry’s momentary freakout lasted all of a second because, suddenly the room went quiet and he remembered what was going on and told himself to just enjoy it.

After a few moments, the room erupted in murmurs, and Harry pulled away just slightly, keeping his forehead against Draco’s.

“Not bad, Harry.” Draco said with a smile, and his hand dropped from Harry’s face to his waist, where he began to trace circles on Harry’s side with his thumb. Harry knew no one would actually see that, but still thought it was a nice touch.

“Not so bad yourself, Draco.” Harry grinned, very aware of the fact that all eyes were on them. “Oh god, people will be expecting us to go on dates to Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop now, won’t they?” Harry said quietly, his forehead still against Draco’s as whispers filled the room around them.

Malfoy breathed a laugh against Harry’s skin. “Merlin, I’d like to think we have better taste than that, Harry.”

Harry laughed and, at the last minute, decided that he should have fun with this. He pulled Draco in for another kiss, smiling against his lips as he felt him kiss back, and trailed a line of kisses against his cheek until he made it to his ear. “We should give the people what they want, right?” He whispered quietly, feeling Draco’s laugh against his neck. He rested his head on Draco’s shoulder for a moment before pulling away to take a sip of his drink.

“Right.” Draco said, his voice low, as he kissed Harry’s neck gently a few times, and Harry tried not to spit out his drink, because God, it just felt so good. “Everything they want.”

Harry decided not to think too much about this. They might as well have fun this year, considering all their other years at Hogwarts were so terrible. And, if having fun like this felt this good and kept girls from following Harry around, it couldn’t be so bad.

“Remember, Harry, since we’re officially dating now, you’ll have to follow through on your promise to buy me presents.” Draco said, as he pulled away from Harry’s neck and took a sip of his drink. He pulled away from Harry completely then, but he dropped his hand to Harry’s thigh. At first Harry thought he was doing this to somehow soften the blow of their kiss being over, but Draco’s hand stayed there.

Harry laughed. “How about I start by paying for your drink, then?”

Draco rolled his eyes dramatically, causing Harry to laugh. “Fine, but my next gift must be very good. And expensive.”

“Hmm… see, that doesn’t seem fair. You’re definitely richer than me.” Draco was massaging Harry’s thigh as they spoke, which made it extremely difficult for Harry to think, but he wasn’t complaining.

“Ah, but don’t you see, Harry? That’s the whole point. I could afford to buy myself fancy things but instead you will buy them for me. That’s how dating works, darling.”

Harry grinned. “I see. Well, shouldn’t you also buy me things I can afford but don’t want to pay for? Or does this rule only apply for posh twats, sweetheart?”

Draco’s smirk filled his whole face. “That was never part of the deal, I’m afraid, my chosen one.”

“Neither were these adorable little nicknames we’ve come up with, but it seems those will be sticking, _honey _.”__

____

____

Draco’s hand stopped massaging for a moment, and his eyes widened slightly. “What was that you just said? The last part?” 

“I said honey. Why? What’s wrong?” Harry’s brow furrowed at the sudden change in mood.

Draco nodded slowly and his hand started moving on Harry’s thigh again, which Harry was extremely grateful for.

“Oh, nothing. It’s just… Well, you said it in Parseltongue. I was confused.”

“Wait, what? I did?”

Draco nodded.

“Oh. I thought…” Harry trailed off.

“What is it?” Draco seemed worried.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Harry thought about it for a moment. He was getting used to Draco being the person that he told the truth to, now. “Actually, it is something, but I wouldn’t want to discuss it here. It’s fine.”

“Okay. Then let’s go for a walk.” Draco put his hand up to signal for the bill.

“No, it’s fine. Seriously.”

“It’s okay. I could do with the fresh air, anyway.” Draco smiled and put some money down on the table.

“I thought I was paying for this.”

Draco laughed. “I guess your next present must be really expensive then.”

Harry smiled, standing up and putting on his coat. As they walked out, Draco’s hand was on the small of Harry’s back, gently pushing him. He could hear the room go silent, and knew that they would be in the newspapers tomorrow. Hopefully he would have some peace from his younger fans now.

It was still early, but it was already getting dark outside and the cool early-winter breeze made Harry glad he brought his jacket. He was surprised when Draco took his hand as they made it out the door and began to walk.

“So, what is it?” Draco asked, straight to the point, but his hand a reassurance.

Harry took a deep breath. “Well, I don’t know how much you know about me and Voldemort, but it’s kind of a lot.”

He didn’t really know where they were walking to, but he didn’t really care. He just needed to breathe.

Draco smiled. “I can handle it, Harry. I shared a house with him for a year.” Draco looked at the ground, not meeting Harry’s gaze.

“Right, yeah. Basically, when Voldemort tried to kill me for the first time, he accidentally made me into a horcrux. A part of him was… Sort of living in my head. And, because of that, I had some of his… qualities. Like, I could speak Parseltongue.” Harry hadn’t told many people about this, but he knew he could trust Draco with it. “And, I guess… I don’t know… I assumed that I wouldn’t be able to do that anymore, since he’s gone. But, what if… What if I’m still… Like him?”

Draco stopped and held both of Harry’s hands, looking into his eyes. “Stop it. Of course you’re not.”

“How can you say that? I… I find myself to be alarmingly similar to him sometimes.”

“Like when?” Draco was still staring at Harry, and Harry didn’t know if he could take it, so he looked at the ground.

“I don’t know. I have a bad temper, like him. And, sometimes, our mannerisms are quite alike, and, now the Parseltongue… I just… I’m worried I’m becoming him.” Draco squeezed Harry’s hands and Harry looked up.

“Harry, you have a bad temper because of what you’ve been through. And yes, he caused that, but it’s not because you were a horcrux. Listen, he was in your head for your whole life. You’re bound to pick up some things, maybe even some phrases in Parseltongue. But, I promise you, if you got any part of him, then I guess it must have been the best fucking part of him, because you are good.”

They stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, before Harry spoke quietly. “Thank you. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for.” Draco pulled Harry into a hug and Harry couldn’t help but realise just how much they had both changed.

As they pulled away, Harry found himself looking at Draco’s lips again, just for a moment. He quickly looked away, but saw something that caught his eye and grinned.

“What? What is it?”

Harry laughed. “Wait here. And you can’t turn around, okay?”

Draco looked at him, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Why?”

“Just don’t. Stay exactly where you are, darling.” Harry smiled widely, dropped Draco’s hands and started running.

He came back around five minutes and was pleased to see Draco was still waiting patiently for him.

“There you are. Where the fuck have you been?”

Harry tried to pay no attention to the way swear words sounded in Draco’s posh voice. Instead he handed Draco a small bag. “Here’s your first present. As your official fake boyfriend.”

Draco smirked. “It better be expensive.”

“Hmm… not exactly.” Draco glared at him. “I’ll make it up to you eventually, okay? Just open it.”

Harry watched as Draco looked in the bag and saw a little ring box.

“A fake proposal already? Isn’t it a little soon, dear?” Draco smiled sweetly at Harry.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Shut up. Look in the box.”

As Draco looked in the box, his eyes widened. “Okay, this is a good first present.”

“Put it on.”

Draco smiled as he slid the ring on his pinky finger, watching as it magically adjusted to his size. Harry had bought him a ring that looked like a snake with green sparkly eyes wrapping itself around his finger.

“It’s magic.” Harry grinned. “It moves and hisses when you’re angry, so I know when to avoid you.” 

Draco laughed. “Thank you. I love it. But, you know, the first present sets the tone for the later presents you buy, so it can only get more expensive from here.”

“Oh! That’s the best part! It was so cheap! Do you want to know why?” 

Draco rolled his eyes. “Why?”

“The green diamond eyes are fake! Like us!”

Draco burst out laughing at that. “You’re right, that is the best part, Harry.”

They stood laughing for a few moments longer before starting to walk back to the castle.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Alcohol and weed.

Harry had been right. When he walked into the Great Hall for breakfast the next day, the room went silent. The rumours about him and Draco had clearly already spread.

Looking around, he saw that Draco was already seated at the Slytherin table, smiling at Harry. Harry gave him a grin, and went to go sit next to him.

“Hey, Draco.” Harry greeted him with a kiss as he sat down. Just a peck, but still, the room erupted in noise, so loud that Harry could barely hear Draco’s response.

“Hey, sweetie. It seems as though we’re the talk of the town.” 

Harry laughed. “It would seem so.” He watched as Draco piled up his plate for him. “I’m glad to see you’re wearing the present I got you.”

“Why, of course. I can’t let something this expensive go unused.” Draco wiggled his pinky. “I mean, real diamonds! You definitely spoil me.” 

Harry snorted. He knew everyone around him was watching them intently, so he leaned over and whispered into Draco’s ear, “Oh, they’re as real as we are, baby.”

Draco smirked at that and Harry moved to pull away, until he felt Draco’s hand grab his chin and yank his face towards his.

“Definitely, baby.” Draco’s voice was low, and Harry could feel his words on his lips.

Draco pulled him into a kiss, a proper one this time. Harry ran one of his hands through Draco’s hair, and let the other one slip underneath Draco’s shirt and run along his back.

They pulled away after a few moments, and Harry tucked his forehead on to Draco’s shoulder, which was quickly becoming his new fake favourite spot. After a few minutes of stunned silence and a few hushed whispers, the Great Hall resumed its usual chatter and Harry and Draco ate their breakfast, speaking to each other with adoration.

Once they had finished eating, Harry asked sweetly, “So, what do you want to do today? I’m all finished with my potions homework, thanks to you.”

“It’s my pleasure, Harry.” Draco smirked. “I was thinking we could have a lazy Sunday, maybe spend it in your room?” He cocked his brow and there was an almost audible gasp from the Slytherin table.

“That sounds lovely.” Harry smiled. He ran his hand along Draco’s thigh. “Let’s start on that sooner rather than later.” He stood up, took Draco’s hand, and began to lead him out of the hall, making sure everyone was watching.

On his way out, he glanced at the Gryffindor table to look at Ron and Hermione. They smiled at him with equal amounts of pride and caution on their faces. He really hated lying to them, but he knew that it was the only way this would work.

When they arrived in Harry’s room, Draco plopped down onto Harry’s bed as though he had been there a hundred times before. The truth was, he had only visited for a few minutes at a time.

“Nice room, Harry.” He said, glancing around at the Quidditch posters on the wall, along with some muggle bands and some pictures of Harry, Ron and Hermione. “So, what should we do today?”

“What, you mean we won’t be shagging all day?” Harry looked at Draco with faux disappointment and Draco smirked back. “Well, I mean, it may be a little bit early in the day for this, but I have a bottle of Firewhiskey?”

“It’s never too early for that.”

Harry grinned as he reached into the back of his wardrobe for the bottle, struggling to grab it.

“Oh, and there you are back in the closet.” Draco said from the bed, his arms behind his head and his mouth twisted into a smirk.

Harry snorted. “Shut up, you git. And take your fucking shoes off if your feet are going to be in my bed.”

Draco sighed. “My boyfriend is so bossy.”

Harry finally managed to reach the Firewhiskey, and grabbed it as Draco toed off his shoes, letting them fall to the floor.

“And my boyfriend is so messy.” Harry looked at Draco’s feet to find his socks had every colour of the rainbow on them. “Oh, but he does have the most colourful socks I’ve ever seen.”

Draco laughed. “No one can see my socks if my shoes are on, you idiot, so it doesn’t matter what colour they are.”

“Oh, so you don’t want to impress your fake boyfriend when you’re fake shagging him? That’s cold, Draco.”

Draco glared at Harry. “These are impressive.”

“Well, you’re certainly right there.”

Harry sat down on the bed next to Draco, popping open the bottle of firewhiskey. Before he could take a sip, Draco grabbed it from him and took a swig.

Harry glared at Draco. “That sip better count as your next present.”

Draco chuckled and handed Harry the bottle. They each took a few more swigs before Draco declared that he was bored.

“Let’s play a drinking game.” He said, with mischief in his eyes.

“What kind of drinking game?” Harry asked warily.

“Hmm… How about never have I ever.”

“Fine. But any information we learn about each other stays in this room.”

Draco smiled sweetly. “Why, of course. Boyfriends don’t kiss and tell.”

Harry laughed. “Okay, it’s your game, you go first.”

Draco thought for a moment. “Okay. Never have I ever done it in public.”

Harry already regretted agreeing to this. Of course Draco would ask for the information that Harry didn’t want to tell him. He took a deep breath and reached for the bottle that was lying on the bed between them and took a sip.

Draco started laughing. “Harry, you have to tell me what happened.”

“Shut up.” Draco’s laugh was contagious and Harry couldn’t help laughing, too. “Fine. I was at this club in muggle London.” God, he couldn’t believe he was telling Draco this. “And I met this girl who, can I just say, was the most attractive girl I have ever seen in my life. Like, mind-blowingly attractive, okay?”

Draco laughed. “Oh, so you only did it because she was hot? It had nothing to do with you, right?”

Harry glared at Draco. “Yes. She convinced me to do it.”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “You have to tell the truth, Harry. That’s the point of never have I ever.”

Harry sighed. “Fine. I convinced her.”

“I knew it!”

“Listen, we were an hour away from my flat, and the line for the bathroom was so long, so…”

“So… what? You shagged her in a bush?”

Harry laughed. “No. In the alleyway.”

Draco let out a bark of a laugh. “Merlin’s sake, you’re classy, Harry.”

Harry was about to protest, when Draco grabbed the bottle from his hand and drank.

“Wait, you’re giving me shit for doing it in public, but you’ve also done it?” Harry exclaimed.

Draco smirked. “No, Harry, I’m giving you shit for doing it in an alleyway. I did it in a restaurant, which is much more sophisticated.”

“A fucking restaurant? What, in front of other people?”

“That’s the definition of public. And it was just a handjob under the table, it’s not extreme or anything.”

“Draco! What the fuck?”

Draco laughed uncontrollably, and after a moment Harry joined in.

They continued to play never have I ever for a little while longer, and Harry came to learn that Draco had had quite a few memorable experiences when it came to sex.

“Wait, you and Blaise?”

“Calm down, Harry. It wasn’t a big deal. It was a temporary friends with benefits situation.” Draco smirked as he sipped the firewhiskey.

“So, you’re gay?”

Draco lost it at that. “Isn’t that fucking obvious?” He said between laughs.

“Couldn’t you have told me that when I was freaking out about accidentally outing myself to you?” Harry was still in shock, but the alcohol was blurring his vision slightly, and he found himself laughing anyway.

Of course, Harry had also revealed some things about himself that he would have rathered stayed secret.

“Four? In one fucking night?”

“Actually, in one bed.” Harry had said, shaking his head.

“What the fuck, Harry?”

“Look, being the saviour of the wizarding world has its perks, okay?”

After they became bored of thinking of questions, and they were both positively tipsy, they decided it was time to stop with the game.

“Oh! I just remembered I have something else in my room that might be fun.” Draco said. His hair was slightly ruffled, as it always was when he was drinking or had been awake for too long, and Harry couldn’t help but think that he should leave it like that all the time.

“Right, because that doesn’t sound dodgy at all.” Harry said, a smile on his face.

Draco laughed. “Shut up, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Harry took a few swigs of the firewhisky whilst he waited. For a moment he thought that it maybe wasn’t best for him to be so tipsy this early in the morning, but quickly decided that it didn’t matter. He was having fun, and he deserved that much after the war.

After a minute or two of waiting, Draco burst into Harry’s room with a smirk on his face and a joint in his hand.

Harry’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You use muggle weed?”

Draco breathed a laugh. “Don’t sound so surprised, Harry.”

“Aren’t there potions that do the same thing, though?”

Draco shrugged. “I prefer the muggle stuff.”

Harry was yet again shocked by how much Draco had changed. “Isn’t the muggle stuff more expensive?”

“Well, it’s also more fun.” Draco smirked and collapsed onto Harry’s bed with a happy sigh. “Do you want some or not?”

Harry laughed. “Fine, fine. I’ll stop asking questions.”

Draco lit up the joint using his wand.

Harry tried not to think about how good Draco looked when he smoked. Harry had seen him smoking cigarettes before, but had always found distractions so he wasn’t focussing on the way Draco sucked on the… He shook the thought out of his head and reached for the joint.

“Do you do this a lot?” Harry asked through the smoke.

“Sort of. It keeps the nightmares away.” Draco relaxed down onto the bed slightly, shimmying until he was fully lying down.

Harry nodded in understanding. “Yeah, I prefer it to Dreamless Sleep.”

“Oh definitely.”

Draco took the joint from Harry, breathed in and grabbed the back of Harry’s head. He yanked Harry’s face towards his own and breathed the smoke into Harry’s mouth, smirking afterwards at Harry’s shocked expression. Their faces were still so close when Draco put the joint in Harry’s mouth.

“Breathe, Harry.” Draco whispered.

“What?” Harry realised he wasn’t breathing in the smoke, “Oh, shit. Sorry.”

He started to pull away, but Draco put one of his hands on Harry’s face, his thumb tracing circles on his cheek, and used the other to grab the joint and put it out on the firewhiskey bottle.

Harry didn’t know what to do, but he knew that he was starting to feel the weed, and Draco’s hand on his face felt so good. He considered pulling away again, but instead decided that if Draco had started this, he may as well continue it. In one swift motion, he put his arms on either side of Draco and moved his legs so he was straddling him.

Draco’s breathing had quickened, and Harry could barely hear anything over his loud heartbeat in his ears.

“You know, I was thinking,” Harry whispered, his face still close to Draco’s. “If we want to really sell it, we need to make it look like we’ve been shagging all day.”

Draco smirked, although his face looked softer than it usually did from the booze and weed. “Oh really?” He whispered seductively, his thumb still caressing Harry’s cheek. “And how do you propose we do that?”

“Well,” Harry placed a kiss on Draco’s cheek, “I would think that a hickey would be a good place to start.” He moved his mouth to Draco’s neck and began to kiss it. Draco breathed a quiet moan and tilted his head so Harry would have more space. His hand moved to play with Harry’s hair at the nape of his neck.

“Seems very reasonable to me.” Draco’s whispers were breathy and quiet as Harry gently nibbled on his neck, but his voice seemed to echo in Harry’s mind. “And what else?”

Harry trailed his kisses up until he met Draco’s mouth, kissing him hard and slow. “I think,” Harry said when they broke apart, “One of us,” He moved to Draco’s ear and whispered seductively, “Shouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow.” 

He nibbled at Draco’s ear, which seemed to be the last straw for Draco. He let out a moan, and pulled Harry in for another kiss, a long one this time.

“Harry,” He moaned between kisses, “Merlin, just let me have you already.”

He thrusted his hips upwards towards Harry’s and, God, was Harry glad to realise Draco was just as hard as him.

“You already have me, Draco.” Harry whispered back.

Harry started grinding, causing both of them to moan and pant. Draco pulled Harry in for another kiss, moaning his name against his lips, which Harry decided was probably the hottest thing he had ever heard. Harry stopped grinding for a moment, breaking the kiss, and Draco whimpered at the loss, until Harry pulled his own shirt off. Harry started to lift up Draco’s top, but Draco stopped him.

“Wait, Harry, leave it on.”

Harry’s brow furrowed. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just… the mark.” Draco squirmed slightly.

“What do you mean?”

“The dark mark. It’s still there.” 

They stared into each other’s eyes for a few moments, before Harry broke the silence. “I don’t care. You’re not that person anymore.”

“I know, but… it’s… I also have…” Draco trailed off, and seemed as though he was at a loss for words.

Harry lifted Draco’s left forearm and kissed the clothed mark. “May I?” He gestured towards Draco’s sleeve, to which Draco took a deep breath and nodded.

Harry lifted Draco’s sleeve to reveal the mark. He didn’t react, he couldn’t. He knew Draco needed to know it didn’t bother him. Instead, he lifted the mark to his lips and kissed it. He kissed every part of it, then trailed his kisses upwards, up past Draco’s shoulder and up to his lips. His kisses were gentle and soft as Draco’s hands found their way to Harry’s face, cupping it and massaging it.

“Harry… you didn’t have to.” Draco said his thumbs tracing Harry’s cheekbones.

“I know. I wanted to.”

They stayed like that for a moment, staring at each other, until Draco broke the silence. “Merlin, you’re hot.”

He kissed Harry hard while his hands reached towards Harry’s trousers, unzipping them and sliding them off. He moved his kisses towards Harry’s neck and he rolled Harry over so he was on top of him. It all felt so good, Harry felt like he could barely breathe. He felt as though he should have said more, done more to show Draco that he had forgiven him, but that thought was soon lost when Draco grabbed Harry’s wrists and pinned them above his head, all the while grinding and kissing Harry’s neck.

“Draco.” Harry moaned, wanting more, wanting everything.

Draco took his hands off Harry’s wrists, but Harry didn’t dare move them. In a swift motion, Draco pulled Harry’s pants down, moaning at the sight. He looked into Harry’s eyes for a moment, smirking, before moving down Harry’s body, kissing him, until he got to Harry’s cock. Harry groaned in pleasure. He moved his hands from above his head to grip Draco’s hair and felt Draco moan against his dick at the feeling.

Harry felt as though he couldn’t think a single important thought in that moment, other than More, Draco, more. He came thinking it, and came saying it over and over again until he couldn’t say it anymore.

Harry grabbed Draco’s cock through his trousers as Draco licked his way back up to Harry’s mouth, kissing him until their lips were numb, until Harry’s hand moved so fast he could barely feel it anymore, until Draco came on Harry, moaning his name. Only then did Draco roll off of Harry, laughing breathlessly.

“Why didn’t we do that sooner?” Harry breathed, his brain fuzzy, every thought echoing in his ears.

Draco laughed. “It would have saved us a lot of fighting over the years.”

Harry looked over at Draco, studying his face, looking at every crease around his eyes and mouth, and thought about how he couldn’t even imagine a single second where he hated Draco enough to not want to look at his face every day. 

“Oh, look at that.” Draco’s voice startled Harry out of his thoughts. He gestured towards the half-empty bottle of firewhiskey with the joint squashed on top of it. “I guess we must have rolled on it.” Draco laughed loudly, and Harry had no choice but to join in.

“Oops.” Harry said between laughs, which only made him and Draco laugh more. Harry levitated the squashed items to his bedside table with a flick of his wrist.

“Woah.” Draco’s voice was full of wonder as he looked Harry in the eyes. “That was wandless!”

Harry started laughing again and Draco’s red eyes creased up as he joined in quickly, neither of them understanding what was funny.

They stayed laughing about nothing for what felt like hours but was probably more like minutes, until Draco yawned.

“Can we get under the covers, Harry?” He said, already curling up slightly. 

In the back of his mind, Harry tried to tell himself that it was probably 11am and that this was most definitely not a suitable time to sleep, but he didn’t care because Draco looked so soft and sleepy, and Harry felt pretty tired, too. “Of course.” He whispered, pulling the blanket out from under them and tucking them both in.

Draco curled into Harry, resting his head on Harry’s rising and falling chest, and wrapping his legs around Harry’s body. Harry sighed into Draco, curling his arm around him and letting the world melt away without thinking.


	7. Chapter 7

Harry awoke slowly, his eyes opening heavily until he could make out the shapes of his room that were shrouded in darkness. He blinked groggily a few times before reaching for his wand to cast a tempus, but quickly realised he was being weighed down. He looked down at Draco, who was half laying on top of him, and was still sleeping peacefully. Harry sighed and decided that he could find out the time later; he didn’t want to disturb Draco.

He figured they must have slept for a while - after all, they did fall asleep in the middle of the day yesterday - and he felt fantastic. He hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in months, aside from the occasional night out that would end in afters at his flat that someone would bring weed to. But, even that peaceful sleep was tinged by the nausea that followed from his hangover the next day. Harry tried not to think it, but he enjoyed waking up next to Draco, seeing his face so soft and happy. Harry also tried not to think about the fact that he was absolutely fucked. They were never supposed to actually sleep together. But, here he was, realising that, once again, his life was not going to plan. Nothing ever did.

He sat listening to Draco’s deep breathing for around half an hour before Draco woke up, inhaling sharply and mumbling, almost incoherently, “What time is it?”

Harry checked and found himself shocked. “Holy shit, it’s 2am. We slept for, like, 15 hours.”

“What the fuck?” Draco seemed to wake up slightly at that, his head lifting and his voice becoming sharper. “God, we’ve fucked up our sleep schedules.”

Harry breathed a laugh. “Come on, were they all that great to begin with?”

Draco laughed at that, relaxing into Harry again. “No, I suppose they weren’t.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, while Harry traced his fingers along Draco’s arm softly. Harry loved listening to the silence at this time of night, loved the lack of noise and company. But, this time, he preferred listening to Draco’s steady breaths as they lay there, wishing it could always be like this.

“Have we fucked this up?” Harry said abruptly, stopping the movements with his fingers for a moment, but he heard Draco’s sharp inhale, and continued quickly.

“What do you mean?”

“Well… this was never in the plan. You know, we were never actually supposed to sleep together.”

Draco sighed, moving around slightly and reaching for his wand. “The best laid plans, Harry.” He turned on a lamp, giving the room a bit of light.

“That’s a muggle phrase.” Harry said, his voice full of shock.

“What an astute observation.” Draco’s smile was apparent in his voice. “You know, I’m educated in both muggle and wizarding literature. That’s just common sense. Even when I lived with my father, I would still read the muggle classics.”

“Wow.” Harry was surprised. Maybe Draco hadn’t really changed too much, after all. Maybe he was just more comfortable showing who he was now. “And your father was okay with that?”

Draco snorted. “No, of course not. He thought it was disgusting. He only found my muggle things once, and he made me burn them all. Using magic, of course. After that, I was more careful.” Draco seemed far away, talking as though he was still in the moment. Maybe he was. He took a deep breath, seeming to come back to the present. “Anyway, as I was saying, who cares if it wasn’t in the plan? Life is too short to plan everything, Harry. Surely, we know that by now. Besides, friends shag all the time, it doesn’t really matter.”

Harry laughed. “Maybe your friends.”

“You’re seriously telling me that Granger and Weasley didn’t sleep together at least once before they started dating?” Draco’s voice was full of amusement and disbelief.

“Not that I knew of.” Harry said. “But, now that you mention it, maybe they did.” He shivered. “I don’t want to think about it."

Draco laughed. “Don’t worry too much about the plan, Harry. When have your plans ever worked out, anyway?”

Harry smiled, thinking back to all of his failed attempts at organisation. Maybe, Draco was right. Maybe, this wasn’t a big deal.

“You’re right.”

“What was that?” Draco said, turning to Harry, faux amazement in his eyes. “I didn’t quite catch that, could you say it again?”

Harry chuckled. “Fuck off. I just mean, we’ve had some pretty shitty years. This year should be fun. And this is fun.”

Draco’s laugh was low, full of lust. “Oh, it is.”

Harry smirked, looking at Draco’s lips until he decided, fuck it, they’ve already messed things up once, why not do it again? He kissed Draco hard and fast, delighted to feel Draco instantly return the kiss. Their breath got quicker, less steady, as they kissed, and soon enough they were rolling around on the bed, spending the early hours of the morning moaning each other’s names.

They barely stopped to breathe, didn’t even waste time getting fully undressed, so when they finally decided that they simply couldn’t take any more, they lay next to each other, panting with smiles on their faces.

“Well, that’s certainly a good way to waste time until morning.” Draco said, still out of breath.

“Yeah, I reckon we killed a couple of hours there.”

“At least we don’t need to make it look like we shagged for all of yesterday anymore.”

Harry laughed loudly, glancing over at the prominent marks on Draco’s pale neck. “I think we’re in the clear for that one. I mean, I did say one of us shouldn’t be able to walk.”

“Merlin, don’t worry, I can’t.” Draco breathed, his smile taking up half of his face.

Harry wished Draco had smiled more when they were younger. Maybe they could have ended their rivalry a little bit earlier if he had, because God, his smile was hot.

He decided against casting another tempus - he didn’t really care what time it was. 

“God, the papers will be loving this.” Harry was still surprised that their plan was working so well. Even if they had taken a few liberties with it.

“Not as much as I am.” Draco laughed. “This is some way to come out of the closet, Harry.”

Harry had always hated that phrase - he had spent the first 11 years of his life living in a physical closet and another 7 living in a mental one - but when Draco said it, it didn’t sound so bad.

“Are you?” Harry blurted out. “In the closet, I mean. Or… were you? Before this all happened.”

“To some people, I suppose.” Draco’s voice was sort of cold, and Harry worried that he had messed it up again, but Draco turned on his side to face Harry. “Of course, my family knew. I never told them, but they knew. We all had a really fun silent arrangement where everyone pretended I was straight and acted as though the idea of producing a Malfoy heir was appealing to me.”

Harry turned on his side, too. He didn’t know when he and Malfoy had become so able to tell the truth to each other, but he felt oddly comfortable with him. Perhaps it was because they both knew that they would never tell anyone else. After all, they were both in on a pretty big secret together.

“I’m guessing Purebloods aren’t all that happy about their children being queer.” Harry said.

Draco laughed slightly. “No, not really. Especially, if they only have one child. My father taught me from a young age that it was my duty to produce an heir. I never had any say in it. Even from fucking Azkaban, he’s trying to set me up.” Draco rolled his eyes. “But, my mother, she’s been… kinder. Not at first, but ever since my father was locked up, she’s made it clear that it doesn’t really matter.”

Harry nodded. “And your friends?”

“Oh, they’re all gay. And very supportive. They make up for what my parents have always lacked.” Draco’s face always filled with fondness whenever he discussed his friends. Harry found it extremely endearing. “What about you? What was it like before the world saw us together?”

“Umm…” Harry wasn’t used to talking about this. But, then again, all of his friends were straight. And he found himself feeling as though the truth wasn’t so bad when he was telling Draco about it. “Well, you probably don’t know much about my family. Which is for the best. They’re awful. At least, the ones I lived with are awful.”

Harry had told Ron and Hermione everything about the Dursleys. They had been as supportive as ever, but he had never told anyone else. He found it odd, but he wanted to tell Draco. He wanted him to know, for some reason.

“They…” Harry took a deep breath. “They kept me in a… a cupboard for the first eleven years of my life.” His voice was quiet, his words slow, and he avoided Draco’s eyes. “I lived in it. And they wouldn’t feed me much. I would basically cook and clean for them, and in return I would get the scraps. So… my sexuality was, sort of, put on hold for a while. And anyway, if I ever told them, they would kick me out.”

He took another few breaths before looking up at Draco to find his eyes wide and full of anger.

“What?” Draco kept his voice calm. “Did you say, they kept you in a cupboard?”

Harry nodded.

Draco shook his head. “Where the fuck do they live?”

“No… It’s okay. I’m over it.” Harry knew that was a lie, and could see in Draco’s eyes that he wasn’t fooling him, either.

Draco grabbed Harry’s hand and squeezed it tightly. “I’m so sorry, Harry. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

That was too much, because Harry could feel how much Draco meant it, and he didn’t know what to do. It was all too much, and his eyes filled with tears, and he hated crying in front of people, but Draco held him anyway. And Draco rocked him back and forth until he stopped crying, and Harry couldn’t think anything other than that he was glad it was Draco he told, and he was glad it was Draco who saw him cry. Because, right now, he didn’t trust anyone more than Draco.

Draco held him, even after he stopped crying. They lay in silence, until Harry murmured, “Thank you, Draco.” And Draco pulled him in tighter until they both drifted back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick note - I think the queer community have so many more stories to tell than ones that are solely based on coming out. However, I wrote this to make me feel better about my own experiences with coming out, which is why I made Harry and Draco's sexualities such a large part of this fic. I apologise if you are sick of coming out stories!


	8. Chapter 8

Harry awoke to his alarm beeping loudly. He was still in Draco’s arms, and he felt Draco move and groan in protest.

“Ugh. Turn it off, Harry.”

Harry rolled over Draco until he could reach his alarm and sighed in relief at the silence that followed.

“God, we’ve slept for ages.” Harry said, his voice still groggy.

“I know, it’s truly awful.” Draco smirked as he mumbled into Harry.

They lay for a few minutes in silence as they both woke up slowly. Begrudgingly, Harry pulled himself out of bed, then had to pull Draco out of bed, as well, when Draco had said, “Five more minutes”.

Once they were both up, they decided that they should simply save time by showering together, but after half an hour, Harry didn’t dare break the news to Draco that they had, in fact, wasted more time than they had saved.

After their long shower, they had gotten dressed together, which Harry pointed out was very counterproductive when they could be getting undressed and telling the teachers that they had both gotten very ill overnight.

“Ah, but Harry, we must show off all of the work we did last night.” Draco had said whilst smirking and tilting his head so Harry had a better view of his hickeys.

Harry had laughed. “Fine, but I hope you know that it pains me to see you in clothes.”

“Hmm… Don’t be so sure about that.”

“What does that mean?” Harry had scoffed.

“Well,” Draco said, moving in closer until he was next to Harry’s ear, “I own a pair of tight leather trousers that would drive you positively insane.” He whispered, as Harry shivered at the thought.

“Please wear them to class today, I’m begging you.”

Draco laughed, and pulled away from Harry. “As much as I love to hear you beg, I’m saving them for later.” He completely let go of Harry and put on his robe, which Harry felt was just to spite him.

They were about to head down to the Great Hall for breakfast, when Ron and Hermione burst into Harry’s room.

“Harry, have you seen this?” Hermione exclaimed, but stopped in her tracks when she saw Draco in his room. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you would still be here.” She was avoiding his eyes.

“What do you mean, ‘still’, Hermione?” Harry said, his brow furrowed.

“We came to see you yesterday evening, because you missed dinner, but you guys were asleep.”

“Oh.” Harry nodded, and turned his attention to what Ron was holding. “What is that?”

“It’s the paper.” Ron said regretfully, holding it out for Harry to take.

The headline on the front page screamed “Boy Who Lived Kisses Boy Who Killed”.

“Well, they work fast.” Draco said, a look of disgust on his face at the headline.

Harry skimmed the article and rolled his eyes. “You know, you’d think they’d do a bit of fact checking before they published these things.” He tossed the newspaper on the bed and turned to Ron and Hermione. “Shall we go down to breakfast?” 

“Harry, they’re talking about some very… personal things in there. Aren’t you bothered?”

Harry shrugged. “They’ve always written about me like that.”

“No, they haven’t, mate.” Ron’s face was full of concern as he spoke. “They speak about you being… you know… into guys. And they say it like its a bad thing.”

“Yeah, and they say things about Malf… Draco, too.” Hermione said, looking at Draco with a small worried smile. “It’s pretty bad, guys.”

Draco looked almost touched at Hermione’s concern for him, but Harry watched as he schooled his features back into that of indifference. “It doesn’t really bother me. I get much worse on the street, anyway.”

Ron looked at Draco for the first time since they arrived. “They also… they talk about your dad.”

Draco shrugged. “Can’t be worse than what I think of him. I’m starving.”

Harry nodded, grabbed Draco’s hand and led the way, squeezing his hand in support as they walked to the Great Hall. Ron and Hermione followed, although Harry could practically hear their stunned silence behind him.

“Do you want to sit at the Gryffindor table today?” Harry asked.

“Sure.” Draco said, giving Harry a small smile and breathing deeply.

Harry lowered his voice. “Are you okay?”

Draco nodded. “Yeah… it’s just a bit harder than I thought it would be.”

Harry nodded, and tightened his grip on Draco’s hand. “We’ll get through it together.”

Draco smiled in gratitude and they continued to walk in comfortable silence.

When they entered the Great Hall, everyone fell silent and stared as they made their way to the Gryffindor table. Harry and Draco put on a show, as always, making sure to sit closely and act as couple-y as possible, as they felt all eyes on them.

They heard some whispers about the article, and others whispered about the marks on their necks, coming from all around them, even the Gryffindors were gossiping. Harry could handle that, this was part of the plan. But, he found himself almost hexing everyone in sight when he heard it. The hissed slur. The one that boiled his blood.

Draco noticed his rage immediately and grabbed his hand, soothingly whispering meaningless words in Harry’s ear, but Harry stood up in anger anyway.

“Who the fuck said that?” He growled, looking around him, waiting for someone to speak, but everyone around him was silent. “Oh, so you’re a coward as well as a bigot, then?”

“Harry.” Draco said gently, trying to calm Harry down, massaging his hand lightly. “Harry, let’s go for a walk.” He stood up and gently started pulling Harry away.

Harry nodded, still furious, almost unable to control his rage. He allowed himself to be guided out of the Hall and into the corridors, as Draco held on to his hand tightly.

“Are you okay, Harry?”

“I don’t know. It’s that fucking word.” 

Draco nodded.

“How are you so calm?” Harry asked, his breathing heavy.

“You get used to hearing it. Or, at least, I did.” Draco said, leading Harry through the corridors. “My father said it a lot.”

Harry looked at Draco, realising all of a sudden that he wasn’t the only victim here. He was just the new one. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

Draco smiled. “It’s not your fault.” He led them to an alcove that Harry had never seen before, and sat down, pulling Harry in close to him. “Let’s just sit here for a while. This is all… a lot.”

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this.” Harry said, enjoying Draco’s comforting warmth.

Draco laughed. “Don’t be. You were right, I didn’t enjoy the whole ‘being alone’ thing.” He smirked. “Your friends might be growing on me.”

Harry smiled. “Oh, they definitely are.”

“They love you so much. It’s nice to see.”

“Yeah, it’s really nice.”

They sat for a while, only talking about happy things, about their friends. When it was time for class, Harry felt calm, and extremely grateful for Draco.

“Thank you.” He said as they stood up, looking into Draco’s eyes.

“For what, Harry?”

“For everything. You know, my temper isn’t the greatest, but you… You handled it really well, so thank you.”

Draco brought his hand up to cup Harry’s cheek. “I wasn’t handling it. I just… didn’t want to see you hurting anymore.”

Harry didn’t know what to say, so instead he kissed Draco, briefly, but deeply.

“Time for potions.” Draco smirked. “Slughorn will be shocked that you’ve done your homework right, for once.”

They started walking again and Harry rolled his eyes. “Please, that man is obsessed with me. He doesn’t care about my homework.”

Draco scoffed. “I see favouritism is working in your favour, Harry. Unfortunately, it's working against me. The hardships of not being the Chosen One.”

Harry laughed. “Darling, I thought I was your Chosen One.”

“Why, of course you are, sweetheart.”

When they made it to potions, they partnered up and finished the lesson with a potion that Slughorn almost swooned over.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this point, the updates will be slower as I still have to write the rest. I will try to update regularly!

For the following few weeks, the newspapers continued to write long articles about Harry and Draco’s “scandalous partnership” whilst whispers followed them everywhere they went. Harry wasn’t surprised by Ron and Hermione’s protectiveness over him - they warded off anyone who came too close with threats to hex them into next week and they walked him to his classes whenever he asked them to (and whenever he didn’t, too) - but he _was _surprised at their protectiveness over Draco. They treated him as though he was one of them, as though he was Harry himself, and made sure to insult anyone who got near him. Harry could tell how happy Draco was about this, even when he hid it, and they found themselves hanging out with Ron and Hermione a lot more because of it.__

____

____

Harry would dare say that Draco was becoming friends with Ron and Hermione. He had already apologised to them after the war, and it seemed as though they had forgiven him since then. At first, they had been wary of him, approaching him with caution and an overwhelming amount of awkward politeness. But, after pulling their wands on three of his tormentors, they started to move on from small talk. Draco and Ron started to play wizard's chess and Ron was immensely happy for a worthy competitor, at last. While playing, they would often bond over their confusion over certain muggle objects and traditions, and would eventually ask Harry and Hermione to explain as they listened in fascination. Hermione found herself immersed in deep intellectual conversations with Draco, discussing both muggle and wizarding literature, while Harry and Ron tried to stay as far away from their conversations as possible. The more friendly they got, the more Harry began to regret his decision to not tell them the truth about his and Draco’s relationship.

Except, he wasn’t exactly sure what their relationship was anymore. They had been sleeping together for weeks, and it had been amazing. They were always rushed and eager, never even bothering to fully take off their clothes, and could safely say it was the best sex he had ever had. But, they had also been acting like a couple, even when they were alone and no one was watching. Truth be told, it felt like they were dating, and Harry was seriously worried that he was beginning to fall for Draco. He had never felt like this before and didn’t know what to think of it.

Their plan had involved an eventual breakup at the end of eighth year that left both of them free from their fake relationship, Draco with an improved status in society, and Harry without a group of girls following him everywhere he went. But, Harry trusted Draco so much now that he couldn’t imagine being apart from him. He didn’t know what to do, and he couldn’t even talk to Ron and Hermione about it. So, instead, he decided that he and Draco would cross that bridge when they came to it. After all, as Draco had pointed out, none of Harry’s plans ever worked out, anyway. This year was supposed to be fun, and he intended on keeping it that way, even if that meant hiding his feelings for Draco.

In the spirit of keeping the year fun, one Saturday morning, as he and Draco were lying in bed, he said, “We should sneak out to muggle London tonight.”

Draco was snuggled into Harry and he mumbled into his Harry’s chest, his voice muffled. “Who’s ‘we’?”

“The whole of eighth year. I mean, we’re allowed to go to Hogsmeade whenever we want now, so why not just go a little bit further and visit muggle London? Besides, we’ll all be going home for Christmas soon.” He said, but already knew what Draco was going to say.

“The whole of eighth year?” He said, his voice dripping in disgust.

“Before you make your decision, you should know I have your next present.”

At that, Draco looked up at Harry with interest.

“Hmm… my answer depends on how good this present is.”

Harry laughed. “I figured as much. But, I can’t give it to you right now.”

“Then my answer is no.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Shut up, it’s a good present, but I have to tell you what it is before you get it.”

Draco groaned. “That ruins all the fun, Harry.”

“Fuck off. Okay, it’s a tattoo.”

Draco frowned. “What?”

“Hear me out. So, you know how you can’t remove the mark, or cover it up?”

“Umm… yeah, I’m pretty sure I, the person who has the mark, knows how it works.” Draco said, a glint in his eyes.

“Well, instead of covering it with a tattoo, I was thinking you could surround it with a tattoo. Imagine this,” He grabbed Draco’s forearm, touching the mark with his finger to demonstrate his idea. “If you surrounded it with a tattoo like flowers or something, the lines of the mark would look much less… harsh, and it would almost be like you chose this tattoo.”

A few months ago, Harry would never picture himself discussing the Dark Mark with Draco so openly, but he was so used to seeing it now that it didn’t bother either of them anymore.

Draco thought for a moment, his eyes fixed on the mark. “Fine, let’s sneak out to muggle London tonight. That’s a damn good present, Harry.”

Harry grinned. “I was hoping you’d like it.”

After dragging themselves out of bed, they told the others about their plan to visit muggle London and, once they had convinced everyone to join them, they spent their day lounging around in the eighth year common room. They wasted their day there, laughing and killing time until it was time to get ready for their night out.

Harry and Draco left together, hand in hand, disappearing into Harry’s room to get changed.

“So,” Draco said, between kisses as he toed his shoes off, “I thought you should know, I will be looking stunning tonight, so you should dress nice.”

Harry laughed, starting to unbutton his shirt. “Well, I apologise, I’m absolutely hopeless when it comes to fashion.”

“Oh, I know. That’s why I’m giving you the warning - so I can pick out your clothes for you.”

Harry laughed and began unbuttoning Draco’s shirt, but Draco pulled away. 

“No, Harry. I’ll be doing that myself.” Draco smirked. “You need to wait to see the full outfit.”

Harry groaned. “Ugh. Do I have to wait?”

“Yes. Now, be good and stay there.”

Harry furrowed his brow and collapsed onto his bed, waiting to see Draco. He pestered Draco, asking if he could see yet, to which Draco responded “No, you twat, be patient” and, after a few more moments, he appeared, almost making Harry’s heart stop in the process.

“Fuck.” Harry growled. “You shouldn’t have bothered to put clothes on, because I’m just going to have to undress you again.”

Draco was wearing the leather trousers he had mentioned to Harry before, a white shirt and a smirk. He looked positively delectable.

“You know what? Let’s not bother going out tonight, I think we should stay in instead.” Harry said, practically drooling.

Draco laughed. “Oh no, Harry. As much as I would love to stay in with you, when I look this good, other people simply must look at me. We’re going.”

Harry groaned. “Why did I come up with this idea again?”

“Merlin knows. But we’re committed to it, now. And I’m picking out your outfit.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: alcohol  
> Sorry, this is quite a short chapter! I'll hopefully update soon!

Saturday nights were always Harry’s favourite when visiting Muggle London. He supposed he hadn’t really taken advantage of turning 18 enough - he was too busy with schoolwork, and his adoring fans and, well, Draco. But, he had certainly had a fun summer, drowning his post-war sorrows in booze and sex, while Ron and Hermione were much more reserved in the muggle clubs. They mostly kept to themselves, as their relationship status really only permitted them to dance with each other.

Harry found that he and Draco were having a much better time than his two friends. They were in the middle of the dancefloor, amidst most of their classmates, drinking and grinding as much as possible. They were in their own world, really. 

As Draco kissed Harry, his breath sweet from the vodka lemonade and his touch eager, Harry couldn’t help but notice how amazing he felt in this moment. He was truly happy, which seemed almost foreign to him after the years he’d had. The alcohol had left his vision blurred and Draco’s hands on him feeling delightful. He was surrounded by people he genuinely cared about, and he felt safe for the first time in a long time.

He savoured this moment, hoping it would last forever. He drank it all in, felt the music vibrate beneath his feet, held Draco close, and breathed a sigh of relief. _This _, he said to himself,_ this is what I’ve wanted my whole life _. Nothing else mattered in that moment, because he had finally found it. This bliss.__

____He spent the rest of the night thinking that way. He danced until his feet felt numb and kissed Draco until his lips bruised. By the time he and his classmates finally decided to leave, his grin had taken up his whole face._ _ _ _

____The cool winter air hit Harry hard as they stepped outside and he shivered, but he kept on smiling. Draco pecked him on the mouth before proceeding to get lost in a conversation with Luna about who-knows-what and drifting towards the front of the crowd with her. Harry hung back with Ron and Hermione, linking arms with them and practically skipping._ _ _ _

____“Did you guys have a nice night?” He could hear his words slurring and his voice was heavy with alcohol and fatigue, but he smiled all the while._ _ _ _

____Ron snorted. “Clearly you did, mate.”_ _ _ _

____Harry laughed. “Yeah, I suppose I did.”_ _ _ _

____“It’s nice to see you like this, Harry.” Hermione said. She was clearly quite drunk and she was stumbling a bit as she walked._ _ _ _

____“Like what?”_ _ _ _

____“Happy. You truly deserve it.” She pulled him in closer as she said this and Harry could feel Ron nodding beside him._ _ _ _

____“Who knew it would be Draco fucking Malfoy making you smile like that?” Harry could hear the grin in Ron’s voice. “He’s a good bloke.”_ _ _ _

____Harry laughed loudly. “Imagine telling 11-year-old Harry, Ron and Hermione that this would happen.”_ _ _ _

____The three of them laughed, but Hermione chimed in, “I would have believed you in sixth year.”_ _ _ _

____“As if, Hermione.” Harry said._ _ _ _

____“Harry, you were obsessed with him.”_ _ _ _

____Harry couldn’t deny that, so instead he just laughed._ _ _ _

____They walked in happy drunken silence for the rest of the way, listening to their classmates’ voices from in front of them. Every so often, Draco’s voice would float towards Harry from the front of the group. For the most part, he couldn’t work out what he was saying, but his grin widened when he made out the phrase, “Oh, Luna, where did you get that tattoo? You know, I’m going to get one soon!”_ _ _ _

____It was at that moment that Harry decided that their group should pick up the pace. Because he simply could not wait another moment to get into bed with Draco fucking Malfoy._ _ _ _


	11. Chapter 11

Harry woke up tangled in Draco, unable to tell whose arms belonged to who for one drowsy moment. His head was pounding and he felt slightly nauseous but he didn’t care. He was happy. 

He lay smiling for a few minutes, looking at Draco’s face. He thought about how young and soft Draco looked when he was asleep, and thought for a painful moment that, perhaps this is how he would have looked all the time if it weren’t for Voldemort and his father. He shook that thought out of his brain just in time to hear Draco groan next to him.

“How much did I drink?” He mumbled, his voice quiet and rough.

Harry chuckled. “Too much.”

“I have hangover potions in my desk.” He murmured, still half asleep and making no move to actually go get the potions.

Harry waited a moment before saying, “Do you want me to get them?”

Draco shook his head and tightened his hold on Harry. “Don’t leave.”

Harry tried not to think about those words too much. After all, Draco _was _half asleep. But, god, did he wish that this was real. He wished that all of this was real.__

__They lay silently for a few minutes, mindlessly running patterns across each other’s bodies, until Draco finally spoke again. “You’re a wizard, Harry.”_ _

__Harry was taken back to age 11 for a moment and struggled to understand what Draco meant. “What?”_ _

__“You can summon them.”_ _

__“Oh.” Harry laughed. “Why can’t you?”_ _

__“I’m no good at wandless magic.”_ _

__Harry thought that was as good a reason as any so he summoned them and, after cheersing, they downed the vials. Harry almost gagged at the awful taste, but he waited it out and after a few seconds the taste was gone and he felt heaps better._ _

__“I heard you talking to Luna about her tattoo last night.” Harry said once they were both sitting up and their nausea had passed._ _

__Draco hummed. “It’s beautiful, have you seen it?”_ _

__“Yeah, she showed me it when she got it. It’s amazing.”_ _

__Luna had gotten it about a month after the war. It was a magical tattoo in white ink - a thestral on her right arm. At first, Harry had thought it was a muggle tattoo, but after Luna had encouraged him to feel it, he found that it darkened to a midnight blue whenever those who could see thestrals, those who had witnessed death, touched it. Luna had whispered to him, “Most people from Hogwarts can see them now, I suppose” and they had both cried for a while._ _

__“She’s planning on getting more.” Harry said, his mind far away. He couldn't help but think of the look in Luna's eyes when she had talked about her tattoo._ _

__Draco hummed quietly and Harry was brought back to reality. “She told me where she got it. It’s not far from Hogsmeade. Do you want to go today?”_ _

__Harry smiled slowly. “Today? Really?”_ _

__Draco nodded. “Why not?”_ _

__“Do you know what you’re getting?”_ _

__Draco smirked. “Yes, but it’s a surprise.”_ _

__Harry chuckled. “Okay. We might have to stop at Gringotts first, though. After all, I’m paying.”_ _

__Draco grinned._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once I came up with the idea for Luna's tattoo, I just couldn't stop thinking about it until I wrote it down!


	12. Chapter 12

Draco squeezed Harry’s hand slightly, but his face was still, as though he was in no pain at all as the tattoo gun buzzed. The tattoo artist had commented on how high his pain tolerance must be (“a lot of people leave in tears - the magical tattoos always hurt more”, they had said), which Harry and Draco pleasantly laughed along with. Neither of them dared to mention why his pain tolerance must be so high, but Harry decided to grip his hand tighter.

Draco had made Harry promise not to look at his forearm until the tattoo was finished, so Harry spent most of the time staring at Draco’s face, which he had no issue with. They chatted politely to the artist - asking about the process behind it and finding out about how magical tattoos differ from muggle tattoos.

After a few hours of Draco looking rather uncomfortable, the tattoo artist declared, “You’re all done!” and Harry was finally allowed to look.

Draco thrust his forearm at Harry with such pride and happiness that Harry couldn’t help but grin. He almost gasped when he looked at the tattoo. The dark mark looked so much softer now - it was surrounded by a few large narcissus flowers, some smaller pansies and, floating around the flowers, were tiny white stars.

“For the women I love.” Draco said.

“Oh, Merlin, it’s beautiful, Draco. Does it move?”

Draco nodded, his smile filling half of his face. “I really like the ring that you got me, you know the one that hisses when I’m angry?”

Harry smirked and nodded.

“So, whenever I’m angry or sad, the flowers start to shrivel up, but when I’m happy, they’re in full bloom.”

Harry couldn’t take the grin off his face as he realised the flowers were very much blooming right now. He also realised that, even if Draco hadn’t really meant to do it, he was now permanently a part of Draco, even if it was in some small way. “I love it.” He turned towards the tattoo artist, “Thank you so much.”

“It’s no problem,” They said with a smile, “I’ve heard the stories about you guys, and I’m so glad I could help cover that mark up a bit.”

Harry and Draco thanked them again as they casted all sorts of healing and protective charms on Draco’s forearm. After paying and promising they would return again in the future, the two boys left with smiles on their faces.

“Shall we grab a coffee?” Harry asked as Draco continued to admire his tattoo.

“Yeah, sure.”

Harry noticed that Draco didn’t roll down his left sleeve, like he normally did. Instead, he rolled his other sleeve up, proudly showing off his new tattoo. Harry’s smile lasted for the rest of the day. Even when Draco got some nasty looks on the street and Harry took his hand. Even when it started to pour with rain and he and Draco had to breathlessly run to the nearest form of shelter they could find. Even when Draco tripped on the wet ground and pulled Harry down with him until they were both rolling on the floor giggling.

And even when Harry Potter realised for the first time in his life that he was hopelessly and undeniably in love with Draco Malfoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited to post more but I'm still working on the next few chapters!


	13. Chapter 13

Harry couldn’t believe he had never seen it before. Of course he was in love with Draco. He supposed some part of him always had been. From the moment he had met him in first year he had been captivated - he just couldn’t leave him alone. Especially in sixth year, it had been pure obsession and he hadn’t even realised. But now, he _knew_ Draco. He knew who he was and how much he had changed. And he loved him even more for it.

He saw it in everything now; on the train home for the holidays, when Malfoy had yawned and laid his head in Harry’s lap; when he had kissed Harry goodbye and told him “think of me” with a smirk; when Harry had greeted the Weasleys at the Burrow and could think nothing but _God, I wish Draco was here with me_ ; even when he sat in the Burrow watching the snow fall, or lay in his cot at night, or when he was showering, or eating, or dreaming, all he could think was _Draco_.

He had thought it would be easier to deal with at Christmas - he wasn’t seeing Draco everyday, and Molly had kept all the papers away from Harry so he didn’t have to read whatever foul thing they had to say about their relationship in their latest edition. But, he found himself to still be falling more and more in love with him. He would have a conversation with Arthur, and he’d laugh at something Draco had said. He was pathetic, well and truly pathetic, and he didn’t know what to do.

When he had arrived at the Burrow, after all the reunions, he was bombarded with questions from the family, which were all along the lines of, “is it true about you and the Malfoy boy?”, “since when do you have a thing for blondes?”, “a slytherin?!”, “i always knew you went both ways!”, “so, is he a good kisser?”. Harry had simply laughed and said, “Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner”, leaving the Burrow in complete silence for the first time in… well, ever. He had waited for a response, any response, but everyone had simply stared at him until Ron said, “Bloody hell, if I had known this would shut them up, _I_ would have shagged Malfoy” and everyone started speaking at once. Shortly after he arrived, he shared an awkward conversation with Ginny that he had been avoiding for months, which ended with an extremely clumsy hug that neither of them enjoyed, but she had still smiled at him and said, “see you later, Harry” as though they weren’t living in the same house.

Still, despite all the questions and redheads coming up to him in shock, saying “Malfoy?!”, Harry had missed the Burrow. He had missed the warmth and the noise and the smell of Molly’s cooking. Most of all, he had missed the hugs. Before the Weasleys, Harry had never really experienced much physical affection, but the Burrow was overflowing with it. Every time he went downstairs, he would be met by an arm around the shoulder, a friendly pat on the back, or a short squeeze from Molly.

In fact, it seemed as though the Weasleys had all gotten more affectionate after the war, as though everyone was trying to make up for the presence that was missing. As though, if everyone was warm enough and loud enough, no one would even notice that Fred was gone. But, of course, they all did. George, especially. He seemed different after the war. His smiles weren’t as wide anymore and his laughs sounded hollow. Harry sometimes caught him passing a mirror and doing a double-take, as though he had seen a ghost. Everyone could feel his missing presence, but no one mentioned it. And Harry found it suffocating.

Harry was explaining this in a letter to Draco, writing what he couldn’t say out loud. His writing was awful and he knew Draco would comment on it, as he always did. They had been talking on the phone every day (a muggle practice which Draco was surprisingly familiar with) and regularly writing letters to each other, but Harry was still missing Draco terribly. He had thought the space from him would be good for him and would allow him to clear his head slightly, but all it was doing was making him realise how much he was in love. He had just finished signing the bottom of the letter when Ron burst into their room.

“Guess what mum just told me?” Ron said, a look of horror on his face.

“Oh, God, what?”

“You know how she’s been keeping the papers away from you?”

Dread started to creep up Harry’s neck and he nodded.

“She just showed me the latest article. Apparently, Rita Skeeter has managed to ‘gain access to a visitation spot at Azkaban’ - which is basically impossible, by the way - and plans on getting Lucius Malfoy’s opinion on ‘his son’s newest romance’.” Ron quoted her with disgust.

A chill ran across Harry’s back. “What? But, how did she do that? Even family can’t visit.” Harry remembered when Draco had told him this. His words had been sharp as he had said it, and he let no emotion show, but Harry knew how much he hated it.

Ron shook his head in anger. “Apparently, the Ministry aren’t all that progressive in how they view relationships. I’m so sorry, mate.”

Harry didn’t know what to say. This would crush Draco. “I… I have to call him. I have to call Draco.”

Ron nodded. “Of course. She’s meeting with him on the day after Christmas.”

“Jesus, he can’t even see his own father on Christmas, but _she_ can?”

Ron gave Harry a sympathetic look and left to give him some privacy as he called Draco.

When he picked up, Draco’s voice was croaky. “Hello?”

“Draco! It’s Harry, have you seen the paper?”

There was a few seconds of silence before Draco took a sharp breath in. “Fuck, Harry. It’s awful.”

“Are you okay?” Harry knew it was a stupid question - he could hear the tears in Draco’s voice.

“I don’t know.” There was a pause. “It’s not like I wanted to visit him on Christmas and pretend I agree with what he’s done, I just… I can’t believe they would let her visit.”

“I know, I can’t believe it either.”

Draco sniffed. “And I know what he’s going to say about us, too. He won’t be happy.”

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, Draco.” Harry knew this was all his fault. “Do you want me to come and see you?”

“At… at the Manor?” Harry knew exactly what Draco was about to say. “No, you have bad memories here.”

“I don’t care. I’ll make hundreds of new good ones with you. I just… I want to stop you from hurting, Draco.”

Harry knew what it sounded like. It sounded like he was in love. He didn’t want Draco to know that, but as he was listening to the phone static, waiting for Draco to respond, he realised that he would do just about anything to stop him from hurting. Even if that meant risking Draco knowing the truth.

After a long pause, Draco whispered, “Yes, please. I’d like that.”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, said goodbye to Draco, and prepared to visit Malfoy Manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the use of the phone makes it seem like this is set now, but it's not! It's set in the late 90s so its a bit of an older phone!


	14. Chapter 14

Harry had promised himself that he wouldn’t show Draco how difficult being in the Manor was. He had told himself over and over again that it didn’t matter, because Draco needed him. And if Draco needed him, he would be there. He had to be there.

Of course, when he eventually arrived, it hurt. Chills went up and down his spine as he stepped out of the fireplace. He felt nauseous and dizzy, but he told himself it was fine. He knew that it must be difficult for Draco, too, to be in here after everything that had happened. So he took a deep breath and decided to get it together.

He didn’t look around, he couldn’t. Instead, he looked directly at Draco - at his puffy eyes, at the way he seemed to be curled into himself slightly, at his small sad smile that he had put on just for Harry - and all of a sudden, he didn’t care where he was. He started walking to Draco, and Draco started walking, too, his face screwing up slightly, and Harry could tell he was fighting the urge to cry. And when they met in the middle, Harry hugged him as tightly as he could, as though he were sheltering him - from Skeeter, from his father, from everything. Of course, Draco was a good bit taller than Harry, but that didn’t matter, because Harry cradled his head anyway. And, as much as Harry knew he didn’t want to, Draco cried. He gripped onto Harry tightly and sobbed into him, as Harry stroked his hair and soothed him, whispering promises that he would be okay in his ear.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, Draco crying, and Harry holding him. Eventually, Draco pulled back and lifted up his head, seeming to remember who he was and who Harry was. He gave Harry an odd look, then glanced around the room. Harry knew he was trying to figure out if this room was a bad one, if Harry had been in here before, but Harry honestly didn’t care. So instead, he smiled at Draco, knowing that no words would be good enough.

Draco furrowed his brow, his voice rough. “Are you okay?”

Harry almost laughed. “Are _you_?”

Draco breathed a laugh. “Let’s go to my room, instead.”

Harry nodded. “Okay.”

As Draco led the way, he looked back at Harry. “My mother’s been asking about you. She wanted to say hi to you, but I told her it would have to wait.”

Harry’s eyebrows went up at this. “She’s been asking about me?”

Draco laughed, though Harry could still hear the sadness behind it. “Of course, she’s very interested in who I’m dating.” There was a long pause before Draco spoke again. “And, she likes to know that you’re okay.”

Harry was shocked at that. “Why?”

After lots of twists and turns, they were at Draco’s door, so Draco stopped and looked at Harry as though he were dumb. “Because you saved her. All of us, really. And, well, because you told her I was okay. In the forest.”

Harry nodded slightly as they entered Draco’s room. “Well, she saved me, too. And I actually wonder about her, as well.”

Draco smiled slightly at that. It was at this point that Harry realised he was _standing in Draco Malfoy’s room_. He looked around, expecting… well, he didn’t know, really. But, whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t this. This was… plain. There were no posters, no pictures, no _books_. Just white walls, a desk and a bed. It looked like no one really lived there.

Draco seemed to know exactly what Harry was thinking, because after a moment, he said, “This isn’t my real room.”

Harry looked at him. “What do you mean?”

“My room used to be upstairs, but I don’t sleep there anymore.” He lowered his voice slightly and looked at the ground. “There are too many bad memories in there. But this room is new for me. That’s why it’s not decorated or anything.”

Harry didn’t know what to say exactly, but he nodded and took Draco’s hand anyway. “I like how it’s not decorated. It’s got more potential.”

Draco looked up from the ground and gave Harry’s hand a squeeze. He led Harry to his bed and they both sat down cross-legged and facing each other. Draco was wearing short sleeves and Harry noticed his tattoo. The flowers looked as though they were dying, some petals barely hanging on, and the white stars were barely visible, having been dimmed. Harry knew what this meant. Of course, he wasn’t surprised that Draco wasn’t happy right now, but he found himself feeling very affected by this. It suddenly hit him that when Draco had chosen this tattoo, he had chosen to be vulnerable and show other people how he was feeling. He didn’t do that often. He seemed to always be wearing a mask when he was in public.

Draco must have noticed Harry looking at the tattoo, because he said, “My mother loves it. The tattoo, I mean.”

Harry looked up into Draco’s eyes with a smile. “Really?”

Draco grinned and nodded. “She was a bit surprised, at first, but when I explained what it was and why I got it, she was thrilled.” His smile turned slightly sad. “She never wanted me to get the mark.”

Harry took both of Draco’s hands in his own and swiped his thumb over them. They both stayed looking at their hands in silence, just being in each other’s company. Harry thought he should say something to Draco, ask him if he was okay, or ask if he wanted to talk about it. But he knew that his company was probably enough. He didn’t have to _fix_ this, he just had to be here.

They stayed like that for a long while. Harry didn’t know how long it had been, but as time went on, he saw the flowers on Draco’s arm brighten up a bit - not much, but the petals no longer looked as though they were about to fall off. Harry smiled slightly when he realised this, and he silently made a promise to himself to ensure that, by the end of the day, those flowers would be blooming again.

He was about to speak, or kiss him, or do anything he could think of to help him when there was a knock at his bedroom door. Perhaps out of instinct, Draco began to pull his hands away from Harry, before realising where he was. He looked up at Harry, tightened his grip on his hands, and said loudly, “Come in.”

Narcissa walked in the room with a tray in her hands and a small, almost sad, smile on her face. “How are you doing, Draco?” Her voice was full of concern.

Draco let go of one of Harry’s hands so he could turn towards Narcissa, but made sure to keep his hold on Harry’s other hand firm.

“I’m doing a little bit better, Mother.” He said, trying a small smile.

She nodded, but she was clearly still worried. “That’s good, darling. I brought you boys some snacks.” She turned towards Harry. “And how have you been, Mr Potter?”

“Oh, please, call me Harry. I’ve been doing well, thanks, how about yourself?”

“Oh, you know, getting by. Draco’s tattoo is absolutely wonderful - he told me you paid for it?” She spoke as she carried the tray over to Draco’s desk.

“Yeah, it was a gift. He chose a really beautiful design.”

Narcissa smiled a bit at that. “I was certainly flattered. What a nice gift, Harry.” Her smile seemed to waver slightly as she said, “Lucius bought me a lot of gifts, in the beginning, at least.” She shook her head as though shaking Lucius Malfoy himself out of her mind. “You seem much kinder than he was… is, I suppose.”

There was a short pause, and Draco said quietly, “He is. Harry’s one of the good ones.”

Narcissa smiled again. “So I’ve seen. I’ll get out of your hair, boys.” She made her way to the door, but stopped suddenly. “Oh! Draco, I left your favourite book from when you were a child on the tray. I thought you might have wanted some comfort, but… well, you probably don’t want to go upstairs.”

“Thank you.” Draco said, his voice sincere but quiet.

“It was lovely seeing you, Narcissa.” Harry said with a smile.

“You too, Harry.”

And with that, she left the room, closing the door behind her.

Draco turned back to Harry. “I told you she’s obsessed with you.”

Harry chuckled. “No, she isn’t, Draco. She’s just… obsessed with keeping you safe, I guess. She’s a lot nicer than I remember her to be.”

Draco smiled. “Yeah, she is. I mean, she’s always been nice to me. But my father… he wasn’t nice to _her_ , really. And, now that he’s gone, she’s much happier. She would divorce him if it wouldn’t leave us penniless.”

Harry squeezed Draco’s hand. “She _seems_ happier. She never struck me as the ‘I left you boys some snacks’ type.”

Draco laughed. As he spoke, he levitated the tray over to the bed. “She didn’t used to be. She used to let the house elves do that, but now she prefers the muggle way. I think, after all the bad experiences she’s had with magic, she doesn’t want to contribute to that, anymore. She still uses it, of course, just a lot less.”

Harry nodded. "That makes sense." He picked up the book that was on the tray. It was a wizarding one that he had never seen before. “You used to read _this_ when you were younger?” The book was thick for a children’s novel - it was the type of thing he would read nowadays.

Draco rolled his eyes, helping himself to the food Narcissa had left out. “Mother used to read it to me. I loved it.”

Harry started eating, too, as he looked at the flowers on Draco’s arm. They had definitely brightened up a bit with Narcissa’s visit.

“Do you want me to read it to you?” He said through a mouthful. He was almost certain Draco was going to comment on the way he was eating, but when he looked up at Draco, he saw that the other boy had a strange look in his eye.

“Really? You would want to?”

“Of course.” Harry smiled warmly.

They finished their snacks and lay down on the bed, Draco’s head on Harry’s chest, as Harry opened up the book.

He hadn’t read to anyone before, but he found it rather relaxing, and he could feel Draco sinking further into the mattress as he spoke. Every so often, he would pause, thinking Draco was asleep, but would look down to see his wide eyes staring up at him, at which point, he would smile and continue reading.

Eventually, he looked down and saw Draco's eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply. He sneaked a look at his tattoo, and found himself grinning when he saw that the flowers were once again in full bloom.


	15. Chapter 15

Harry spent the night at Malfoy Manor, which is something he thought he would never do. When he had realised he would, in fact, be spending the night in Malfoy Manor - when Draco had lay in his arms, his tattoo blooming and his breaths slowing - he had no idea what to think. He had put down the book that he had been reading to Draco, and he had snuggled in, but he hadn’t closed his eyes. Not for a while. He had lay there listening to Draco’s breaths until his eyes shut naturally, and soon enough, he was waking up to the sun shining, the birds chirping and absolutely no recollection of falling asleep the day before.

He only took a moment to wake up - a moment to register the knowledge that it was _physically possible_ for him to fall asleep in Malfoy Manor. He didn’t fall asleep easily on a good day, and in the bloody Malfoy Manor? That was a mystery. Of course, it was a mystery easily solved, because as he opened his eyes, he saw Draco giving him an odd look. Harry shouldn’t admit such things to himself in front of Draco, but he supposed falling asleep next to the blonde was rather easy.

Harry smiled at Draco, but Draco didn’t smile back. He just kept giving Harry that strange look.

“What?” Harry mumbled, his voice rough.

“Nothing.” Draco paused, and seemed to make up his mind about whether or not he should speak. “It’s just… is this not difficult for you?”

“What? Waking up? Yes, always.” He said with a smile.

Draco breathed out a laugh. “No, you idiot. Being here.”

Harry groaned. “Draco, it’s too early for thoughts.” Draco laughed at that and Harry was planning on leaving it there, but all of a sudden, his mouth was making sounds that his brain wasn’t responsible for. “Yes, a little bit. But, I suppose, being here with you is much easier than it is hard.” He shook his head. “You see, I _told_ you it was too early for thoughts - that made no sense.”

Draco laughed again. “I’ve been spending too much time with you, Harry, because that made perfect sense to me.”

Harry smiled at that, and they both lay in silence for a while before making their way to the tea room, which was where, Draco informed him, he and his mother usually ate breakfast.

Narcissa was already eating by the time they made it to breakfast, and she welcomed them both with a warm smile.

“Hello, mother.” Draco said as he walked to Narcissa and kissed her cheek. “Did you sleep well?”

Narcissa nodded as she chewed, waiting to swallow before responding. Harry was reminded of just how differently he and Draco had grown up - Draco was raised to never talk with his mouth full and Harry… well, Harry was raised to never talk and to never keep his mouth full.

“Rather well. What about you, darling?” Narcissa said, smiling at Draco.

He smiled back. “Like a baby.”

Narcissa beamed at that, then turned to Harry. “And you?”

“Very well, actually.” He took in the food laid out in front of him, suddenly realising how hungry he was. “All of this breakfast looks fantastic! I thought I’d gotten used to all the fancy meals while I was at Hogwarts, but this is even better.”

Harry heard Draco snort from beside him. “This is rare for our family, Harry. We’re not really breakfast people.” He said as he walked over to a seat and helped himself to coffee and nothing else.

“Draco, we _are_ breakfast people when guests are over.” Narcissa said, frowning and handing a plate of pancakes and fruit over to Draco. “Please, Harry, sit down and help yourself.”

Harry didn’t have to be told twice - he took his seat eagerly and started eating. He tried to be civil (tried not to talk with his mouth full, tried to eat slowly, tried to remember that even if he took his time, the food would still be there) but this was quite possibly the greatest breakfast he had ever eaten, and he found himself eating three times what Draco and Narcissa had eaten (combined) in under half the time. He was expecting Draco to make a joke, or laugh at him, but when he looked up, Draco was simply smiling at him. He couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but his smile was fond, almost proud, and Harry’s heart melted.

As they ate, they discussed whatever small talk they could think of, but it was much less awkward and boring than the other kind of small talk he usually had. Draco and Narcissa seemed rather happy, all things considered. They seemed to truly love each other, and not in the obligatory family way that Draco had always loved his father. It was endearing to watch. As well as this, they had a certain way about them that made their presence surprisingly easy and enjoyable for Harry to be around. Whatever it was, it filled their morning with laughter and left Draco looking a lot happier than he did last night - as though he had forgotten about Rita Skeeter all together.

Harry thought this was all well and good, until it came time for him to leave. At which point, he realised _he had spent the night at Malfoy Manor_ and he was about to go back to the _very full Burrow_. He felt positively ill at the thought of facing the Weasleys and talking about this unfortunate fact. But, he knew he would have to go back eventually, and putting it off would likely make it worse. With a sick feeling in his stomach, he said goodbye to Draco and Narcissa, stepped into the fireplace, and closed his eyes.

Harry had, of course, been right to feel ill.

As soon as he stepped out of the fireplace, he was met with shouts from every direction, of which he could make out only four words - “Malfoy” and “what the fuck” - all of which were yelled repeatedly.

Harry winced and said, “It’s not what it looks like, I promise.”

There were a few more shouts, until George spoke. “Oh, really?” He said, a glint in his eyes, which was a rare appearance nowadays. “Because, it _looks like_ you spent the night at the bloody Malfoy Manor.”

Harry sighed. “Okay, yes. I did do that.” He could tell someone was about to start yelling again, so he added quickly, “But nothing happened.”

Ron barked out a laugh. “Oh, please. Harry, this is _such_ a walk of shame.”

Harry shook his head, heavily regretting teaching Ron that muggle phrase.

There was quite a bit more yelling before Molly finally declared that enough was enough and everyone ought to leave Harry alone. Harry took the first chance he got to leave the room and return to his bedroom, where he shut the door and lay down in his cot with a sigh.


	16. Chapter 16

Christmas went by in a blur, full of celebrations, gifts, food and Draco. It was the same as every year, apart from the fact there was one less laugh at the table, one less mouth to feed and one less jumper for Molly to knit. Well, Harry supposed, that wasn’t entirely true. Much to Harry’s surprise, Molly had knitted Draco a Slytherin green jumper with his initial on it and had told Harry to “make sure the Malfoy boy gets it”. Harry tried not to read too much into this, tried not to think about the fact that she didn’t even knit _Fleur_ a jumper, tried not to remember that it had taken her _four years_ to knit _Hermione_ one, but he decided this was simply too much for his brain to handle, and eventually asked her on Christmas morning what it meant.

“It means… I want him to know he’s loved.” She had responded with an odd look in her eye, before shooing Harry out of the kitchen.

And, of course, Harry and Draco talked on the phone a few times that day (which he was teased endlessly for). Harry had sent Draco a present, not expecting anything in return - after all, he was the one usually buying the gifts in their fake relationship - but a package from Draco had arrived on Christmas Eve with a note that read, _For the best boyfriend I could have asked for, Love D_. Harry knew that Draco was joking and if any of the Weasleys saw the note, they wouldn’t suspect their relationship was fake, but there was something about his neat, cursive handwriting spelling out the word ‘love’ that Harry couldn’t get over. When he opened it, he was confused to find a seemingly old book, titled _A Wizard’s Guide to the Magical and Muggle World_ , but upon further inspection he realised it was a travel guide, detailing the most beautiful spots in Britain - both wizarding and muggle - and he found that Draco’s handwriting was all over the book. On the inside cover, he had written, “So you never have to feel trapped again” and he had dog-eared many pages, writing about his experiences of some of the locations, extra information, and adding references to their previous discussions about where Harry had wanted to visit.

Harry was touched, to say the least. Draco hadn’t spent much money on his gift, but he had put so much thought into it, making promises to visit some of the areas together. Harry knew this was rare for Draco - he had told Harry that his family stuck to lavish, meaningless presents that required no thought or connection, which was basically the exact opposite of this book.

Harry had bought Draco a muggle camera and a small scrapbook with his initials on the front. He had already filled the first two pages, leaving the rest blank. On the first page, he had managed to get Pansy to send over some photos of her, Draco and Blaise (which was an awkward letter to send, but Pansy was nice about it - or as nice as Pansy gets), and had decorated it with the Slytherin colours. On the second page, he had stuck in the first newspaper article written about the two of them, along with the only picture he could find of them (a picture taken by Colin Creevey in their second year at a Quidditch match - the picture showed them both flying next to each other, intent on escaping the wrath of a rogue bludger) and had decorated it with hearts, writing at the bottom “love at first sight”. He had done it as a joke, and it took everything he had to stop thinking about the fact that it was anything but, and he was so clearly in love with Draco.

They had called each other in the morning after opening their gifts to thank each other. Draco thanked Harry for his present, a smile in his voice, and passed on his thanks to Molly for the jumper. Harry jokingly asked him if he would ever wear it and Draco, his voice serious, said “Of course, Harry, it’s lovely”. Harry found himself falling all over again, so he made up an excuse of needing to help with the dinner preparations.

Their second call was after dinner - to check up on each other, wishing each other a merry Christmas again, and hanging up the phone with smiles on their faces. But their third call was when reality set in.

Draco called Harry in the evening whilst everyone was clearing up at the Burrow. His voice was unsteady, as though he was trying not to cry. All he had to say was, “I can’t believe it’s tomorrow” and Harry was packing a bag to visit Draco at the Manor again.

The Weasleys were worried about his sudden departure, but as he disappeared into the flames, he heard Ron say, “It’s Lucius Malfoy” and he knew they would understand. Even though it was Christmas.

When he arrived at Draco’s they went up to his room immediately. Harry held Draco in his bed until his tears stopped falling and they both fell asleep. When they woke up, he held him again, rocking him as he sobbed, and when Draco stopped crying, he still held him. Until the day had passed and they fell asleep again. He held them as they waited.

Waited for Lucius’ ugly words and their ugly consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whilst writing this, I realised that we never actually see Hermione receiving a Weasley jumper, which I thought was crazy!


	17. Chapter 17

“I have to wait a _whole week_ to find out what that horrid witch has to say about us?”

Draco was pacing in his room. Harry had been staying at the Manor for the past two nights and had barely contacted the Weasleys since Christmas Day. He knew they would be worried, but he and Draco had more important things to be worrying about right now. Like the fact that Rita Skeeter had decided to wait over a week to publish her interview with Lucius Malfoy.

“Not to mention my father - I’ll bet he has some colourful words to describe our relationship.”

Harry swallowed the bitter feeling in his throat as he corrected Draco’s words to _fake relationship_ in his mind. “They sell more post on Sundays, so she’ll make more money. Plus, it’s the new year - hardly any papers will be publishing, so they’ll be able to…” Harry trailed off as he saw Draco glaring at him. “Sorry, that’s not helping.”

Draco sighed. “A fucking week of this waiting. This is bullshit.”

He plopped down on the bed next to Harry, defeat evident on his face. They sat in silence for a few moments.

“Harry, what’s next?” His voice was quiet.

Harry lay his head on Draco’s shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… My father won’t be happy, but that’s only the beginning. What happens when everyone in Wizarding Britain has read that article? What are they going to do?” He relaxed his head against Harry’s. “More importantly, what are _we_ going to do?”

Harry had been so focused on what the article was going to say, that he hadn’t even thought about what would come afterwards. “I don’t know.” He said stupidly. “But we’ll get through it. Hell, we survived bloody Voldemort, I’m sure we can survive Rita Skeeter.”

“And my father.” Draco added, sadly.

“We can survive him, too.”

Harry reached out and grabbed Draco’s hand, gripping it tightly.

He felt Draco nod. “I guess we can.” He whispered.

Harry went back to the Burrow that night and explained to a very concerned Molly that he and Draco were going to be fine, they just needed some time to talk it over. He called Draco as soon as he got upstairs, speaking to him until he was tired enough to fall asleep.

The rest of the week went by in a blur. Of course, it was a _long_ week for Harry and Draco, but the time seemed to pass in an odd way. Every minute seemed to drag out endlessly into hour after hour and yet, at the same time, at night Harry would feel as though he had no time left. He spent the days either talking to Draco on the phone or lounging around in Draco’s room. The Weasleys had gotten used to their relationship, but they still made jokes about it whenever they could, which Harry somehow found both comforting and unsettling all at once.

By Saturday, Draco was a mess. He didn’t leave his bed all day and barely ate anything. Harry sat and read to him, offering him all the comfort he could give. In the evening, Draco cried in Harry’s arms and Harry rocked him until he fell asleep, but Harry stayed awake. He couldn’t sleep. He held Draco, feeling his deep breaths and his slow, steady heartbeat, but Harry lay awake until the birds began to chirp and the sun filled Draco’s room.

It was almost time. And he didn't feel ready at all.


	18. Chapter 18

Narcissa came up to Draco’s room before he had woken up. She poked her head in and smiled at Harry warily.

“It’s arrived.” She whispered.

Harry’s heart stopped for a moment and his breath quickened. He nodded and whispered back, “I want to let him sleep for a bit more. Can you leave it on the desk?”

“Of course.” She walked over to the desk quietly, placing it down carefully. She hesitated for a moment before turning to Harry. “Thank you, Harry. For helping Draco through this.”

Harry smiled. “You don’t need to thank me.”

She looked as though she had expected that answer, and said, “Yes, I do.” And with that, she left.

He tried to stop himself, but he couldn’t help thinking that this was all his fault. He had gotten Draco involved in all of this, and it was hurting him. He didn’t know how to even begin to apologise for it.

Harry looked over at the desk. The paper was sitting on it, looking harmless. Harry’s stomach was filling with dread as every second passed, but he didn’t care. Draco needed to sleep - he deserved this last moment of peace.

It was taking everything Harry had to not walk over there and read it before Draco woke up. It was awful even having it in the room. Of course, he never read the Daily Prophet anymore, and he _certainly_ never bought it, so he wasn’t quite sure how bad it would be. He wondered if Rita Skeeter was as harsh as she used to be, but he supposed that if she was willing to go to Azkaban for a story, she probably was.

He seemed to be having a staring contest with the newspaper, but he didn’t have to endure it for long, because Draco woke up with a start after a minute or so.

His voice was slightly panicked as he murmured, “What time is it? Is it here.”

Harry nodded and gestured to the desk.

Draco took a deep breath. “Merlin. Okay.” He exhaled sharply and levitated the paper over. He looked at it for a moment, before seemingly deciding that was too much, and held it out to Harry. “Could you… could you read it to me? I don’t think I can do it.”

Harry gave Draco a small, sad smile. “Of course.”

He was not surprised to see Lucius’ face on the front page. He _was_ surprised, however, to see that it wasn’t his mugshot. Every article that had been written about Sirius had shown him screaming in Azkaban - even the ones detailing his death - but _Lucius Malfoy_ was allowed the dignity of a photo from before his imprisonment. That was already a bad sign.

Another bad sign was the title. The words, _Disappointed Death Eater - “Worse than Azkaban” says Lucius Malfoy_ , filled the top of the page in big, bold letters.

He took a deep breath and started reading. “Lucius Malfoy, father of Draco Malfoy, reveals the truth about his son and Harry Potter to Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Recently imprisoned and ready to tell all, Mr Malfoy has claimed he always knew…” Harry trailed off, reading ahead slightly.

“What? Keep reading.” Draco turned his head towards Harry expectantly.

Harry nodded. “Mr Malfoy has claimed he always knew his son was sick.” He looked at Draco for a reaction, but his face revealed nothing, so Harry kept on reading. “He has disclosed that ‘ever since a young age, the boy would refuse marriage’ and his recent partnership with Harry Potter has come as no surprise. Mr Malfoy claims that Mr Potter drove his son to the point of obsession, and his ‘perverted addiction to Draco’ was what…” Harry stopped.

Draco’s breaths had gotten heavier and his eyes were closed, but Harry couldn’t tell if he was angry or heartbroken.

“Draco, are you okay?” He reached out to squeeze Draco’s arm, but Draco moved away slightly and Harry stopped.

“Just… get to the part where my father speaks.”

Harry blinked. “Umm… okay.” He skimmed the paper. “He says, ‘My son has always been rather impressionable. The Dark Lord’s influence over him is what caused the Malfoy family to become involved in the war, just as Potter’s influence over him has led to this… abomination.’”

“He’s blaming his part in the war on me?” Draco’s voice wasn’t full of venom or malice, as Harry had expected it would be. It was simply… sad. And quiet. As though he didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. Harry wanted to wrap him in his arms and hide him from the world, but he didn’t. He sat there, feeling useless until Draco spoke again. “Abomination?”

Harry winced. “When asked to elaborate further on his use of the word ‘abomination’, Mr Malfoy said, ‘Finding out your son is -” Harry took a deep breath, “- perverted. It’s worse than Azkaban.’” 

“Is that it?” Draco asked, his shoulders hunched.

Harry nodded. “Our thoughts go out to Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy during this hard time.” He looked at Draco. “That’s all of it.”

They sat in silence for a few moments.

“Draco… Rita Skeeter isn’t reliable. She makes up quotes all of the time.” Harry said gently.

Draco shook his head. “This time, it’s different. I can imagine him saying that - he… he _has_ said that… that sort of thing in the past.” He looked as though he was trying not to cry.

“None of it’s true, you know? Even if he said it, you’re not… sick.”

Harry tried to reach for Draco’s hand, but he pulled away again. It was a small movement, barely noticeable, but it was there.

Draco looked down at his hands, fiddling with his fingernails. No one spoke for a minute.

“You should be getting back.” Draco said quietly, as though he were trying not to disturb the silence of the room. “Your family will be wondering where you are.”

Harry was about to say that they would understand and that he wouldn’t care if they didn’t, because Draco was important to him, but Draco seemed to sense it, because he stood up, out of bed.

“I think I need to be alone, Harry.” He said, and then opened the door, gesturing for Harry to leave.

Harry was shocked - this isn’t how they were to each other, not anymore - but he didn’t know what to say, and he could tell that Draco didn’t want him there, so he left. He stood up, grabbed his things, dropped the newspaper on Draco's bed, and left. Draco shut his bedroom door before he got a chance to say goodbye, and Harry stood there for a moment.

He stood, listening to Draco on the other side of the door, listening for a sign that it was all going to be okay. But, no such sign came. And so, he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I haven't been updating as regularly as I want to! I'm writing as fast as possible! :)


	19. Chapter 19

Harry was going out of his mind.

He hadn’t talked to Draco in days; he had tried calling him again and again, but eventually his mother answered and told Harry that he didn’t feel like talking. He was considering going to the Manor so Draco had no choice but to talk to him, but he knew that was unfair. He felt so helpless and he didn’t know how to fix it.

Perhaps Draco was angry with him. He had every right to be - Harry had gotten him into this whole mess in the first place. Or perhaps, he was just upset. Whatever it was, they were due to go back to Hogwarts in a few days, and Harry didn’t know whether he and Draco would be going back as a ‘couple’ or not. He decided to wait for Draco to call when he was ready, but it didn’t make it any easier to handle right now.

The Weasleys seemed worried for Harry, asking questions about him and Draco, making sure he was okay. Harry didn’t know what to tell them. He had been lying to them the whole time and yet, their relationship hadn’t _felt_ like a lie. And, now that it seemed as though it could be over, he had no idea how to talk to anyone about it.

He wasted the last few days of his Christmas holiday trying to distract himself from Draco. He helped Molly cook and clean, and helped Ginny with her holiday homework (as well as finishing every last piece of his) and discussed more muggle objects with Arthur than he had ever discussed in his life.

It was only on the last day of their holidays - as Harry was dragging out the last of his packing - that Draco finally called him. Harry was surprised, watching the phone as it rang for a moment, before answering it eagerly.

“Hello? Draco?” He said, perhaps slightly _too_ eagerly.

“Hi, Harry.” There was a pause where Harry waited for Draco to speak. “I’m… I’m sorry that I’ve waited so long to call you back.”

“You don’t need to apologise.” Harry was finding this incredibly awkward - and he hadn’t felt awkward around Draco since… well, since their ‘relationship’ started. “Are you doing alright?”

“Umm… yeah. I mean, it’s obviously been a bit of a struggle, but I’ve mostly just been thinking.”

Harry felt his stomach tie into knots. “Thinking about what?” He said gently.

“Just…” Draco paused, and then sighed heavily. “Harry, what are we doing?”

Harry had so many things he wanted to say; he wanted to say 'we’re helping each other', or 'we’re getting through this together', or 'I love you'. But, he couldn’t say any of that. So, instead, he said, “What do you mean?”

Draco sighed again. “This is hell.” He cleared his throat. “Not you, but my father. And… I can’t help but think that maybe… maybe we should start the next stage of our plan a little bit early.”

Harry’s heart sank. “You mean… the break up?”

There was another pause where Harry was left listening to the phone static. “Yeah. Yes, I mean the break up.”

Harry didn’t know what to say. He wanted to hang up or scream at Draco or cry. “Oh.” He said, unsure of what to do next. “Okay. Yeah. If you want to.”

“Yeah… I think it would be best. For everyone.” Draco sighed. “We should wait a week - we can keep a low profile and then make it a big scene, like we planned.”

“Right.” Harry said, but his mind was elsewhere already. He was going to lose Draco. “Sure.”

“I… I’m…” Draco was clearly at a loss for words, but Harry didn’t know what to say, either.

There was a very long pause, as though both of them were waiting for the other to say something - anything - that would fix this. But neither of them could.

So, eventually, Draco spoke quietly. “I’m sorry, Harry.” And then… he hung up.

Harry listened to the ringing of the disconnect tone before it eventually cut to silence. He was going to lose Draco.


	20. Chapter 20

Harry looked out of the train window, watching as the fields rolled by. Soon, he would be at Hogwarts - at home - but he wasn’t excited. This was the last time he would be riding this train to the castle, but he couldn’t enjoy it. All he could focus on was Draco sitting next to him.

They had barely spoken since they sat down in the carriage. Draco had said they still needed to be seen together, but Harry found it to be even harder than he had expected. For hours, he had been sitting on this train, thinking about how much he would miss Draco’s smell. He smelt like flowers, like apples, like luxury, like _home_ \- Harry could drown in it (and he likely _would_ if he were to come across any Amortentia) - and yet, he wouldn’t get to smell that anymore. Not everyday. Not at all, really. It was torture.

They sat in silence until the train stopped, and then sat for a few moments more, waiting until the crowds of children passing by their carriage window had decreased. They didn’t say a word until they stepped off the train. Harry stretched off the hours he had just spent in one position, then spotted his friends up ahead.

He turned towards Draco. He decided that if he didn’t say something now, he would likely regret it later. “How are we going to act around them? I mean, are we supposed to just stay silent for the next week around our entire year?”

Draco looked almost shocked at Harry’s voice. “I suppose we’ll just… go back to how it was before. You know, back to the pretending.”

Harry wanted to cry. In fact, he _needed_ to cry. Because he wasn’t pretending before, and he didn’t know how to pretend now. But, he couldn’t let Draco know that, so he nodded. “Okay.”

Draco gave Harry a smile, but it was small and disingenuous. Harry tried to smile back, but he found it impossible. He was losing Draco. 

They caught up to Ron and Hermione, making small talk, but Harry knew his friends were worried. They knew him too well, and they knew when he was upset. They made their way to the castle together, Harry and Draco walking side by side, but not touching or speaking.

Once inside the castle, Harry and Draco sat down at the Gryffindor table. Harry thought this was rather unnecessary, as it would have been perfectly reasonable for Draco to sit with the Slytherins. They listened to McGonagall give her back-to-school speech and Harry thought about the unfairness of the situation. He had finally, _finally_ been happy. He had fallen in love, for fuck’s sake. And now, he was losing all of it because of Lucius fucking Malfoy. And because, unfortunately for him, Draco didn’t love him enough to fight for him. In fact, he didn’t love him at all. And now, he was sitting at his last ever back-to-school feast, and he couldn’t even enjoy it. That was _truly_ unfair. He hated everyone for it; he hated Lucius, he hated Draco, he hated Hogwarts, he hated Rita Skeeter, and, most of all, he hated himself for being happy for even one moment.

“Harry, are you okay?” Hermione’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

He turned to Hermione with a start. “Hmm?”

“You’ve not touched your food yet.”

He looked at the feast that had appeared before him in the time he had been ranting in his mind, and realised how hungry he was. “Oh. Right. Thanks, Hermione.” He helped himself to the food. “Sorry, I was just… lost in thought.”

Hermione looked sceptical but smiled at Harry nonetheless. Now that Harry was drawn back to reality, he started to listen to the table’s discussion of their holidays. He laughed along, and even added the odd comment here and there, but in his head he could only think of his anger. And, well, Harry was aware of his temper. He knew that it was unreasonable and hurt people, but he couldn’t help himself.

Seamus had just finished talking about the job he had lined up for summer - apparently being an active part of the war was good work experience for… well, every job available in the wizarding world - and finished his story with a loud, “Let’s hope they don’t fire me! I’d like to last longer than a week!”

Harry couldn’t think past his anger, and he muttered under his breath, “Well, maybe you’ll just quit, like my _boyfriend_ over here.”

He was met with silence and, as he looked up, he realised that everyone at the table was staring at him. Everyone except Draco. Draco was looking intently at his plate, keeping his eyes down. Harry instantly regretted opening his mouth - he supposed he may have spoken a little too loudly. After a few moments of extremely awkward silence, and Draco’s determination to keep his eyes on the table (rather than on Harry), Seamus laughed loudly and proceeded to talk about his and Dean’s Christmas holidays. No one mentioned it for the rest of dinner, but as soon as Harry had finished eating, Draco grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the Great Hall.

Once the doors to the Great Hall had shut fully, Harry expected Draco to stop and talk to him, but he kept his grasp on Harry’s hand tight and his pace quick. They made their way through the corridors, turning corner after corner until they reached an area of Hogwarts that Harry was sure he had never seen before.

He stopped in his tracks, whipped around to face Draco and asked loudly, “What the hell are you doing?”

The look on Draco’s face was murderous. “What the hell am _I_ doing?” He slowly walked towards Harry as he spoke. “What the hell are _you_ doing, Harry?” Harry found himself backing up as Draco walked towards him, until he felt a wall at his back. “What the fuck was that in there?”

Draco had Harry pressed right up against the wall now. Harry didn’t know what to say, so he looked at the window behind Draco, avoiding his eyes. Draco must have taken that as an attempt to look for an exit strategy, because he put his hands on either side of Harry’s shoulders, his palms flat against the wall.

“Look at me, Harry.” He said, his voice so harsh that Harry had no choice but to do as he was told. “Quitting?” His eyes narrowed. “I’m quitting?” He lowered his voice. “What the _fuck_ did you mean by that?”

Harry didn’t know what to say. He considered apologising, considered punching Draco in the face, or maybe making a run for it, but he couldn’t help but notice just how close Draco was to his face. He was pressing Harry against the wall, and it was doing things to Harry that he shouldn’t be thinking about right now. But, he just couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help looking at Draco’s lips. He watched them as they moved.

“Harry, I asked you a question.”

Oh, god, now Harry _really_ couldn’t help it, because his name sounded so good in Draco’s voice, and he could feel Draco’s words on his skin, and all of a sudden, he was reaching forward and kissing Draco hard.

Draco kissed back for a moment, perhaps out of instinct, but pulled away just as quickly. “What are you doing?” His voice was low and rough, and Harry practically moaned at the sound of it.

“One more time.” He said, his hands on Draco’s hips. “For old times’ sake.” With that, he kissed Draco again and turned him around quickly, so that Harry was pressing Draco against the wall now.

Draco moaned as Harry kissed him, which sent a shiver down Harry’s spine. “Fine.” He said, as they came up for air. “Once more.”

That was all Harry needed to hear. He spun Draco around and pressed against him, panting and kissing Draco’s neck from behind. They were both a mess of grinding, and moans, and panting, and _Draco's smell_ , not giving a second thought to the fact that they were out in the open. Anyone could see them, and Harry didn’t care. In fact, it made it better.

And, once they’d both finished, Draco’s face pressed against the wall, and Harry’s hands on Draco’s hips, they collapsed onto the floor with a sigh. And then, they did it again on the floor. And again, against the window. And again, in Harry’s bed once they had the energy to make it that far, each time moaning “one more time”.

And Harry thought to himself that, _yeah, this was a pretty good ‘one more time’_.


	21. Chapter 21

Harry woke with a start, his mind loud with anxiety. Something felt wrong.

The window was letting in far too much light and it was hurting his head, so he rolled over to avoid looking at it. He let out a sigh of relief at being in the darkness, and found himself almost drifting off to sleep again. Just as his brain quietened, he jolted awake again, realising what was wrong.

His bed was empty.

He had fallen asleep next to Draco, tangled in him, but now, he wasn’t here. Now, the bed was empty. Draco  _ never _ left without telling Harry, and Harry felt his heart beating faster. Where did he go? 

He was in the middle of scrambling out of bed to find the Marauder’s Map when he stopped in his tracks. Draco was fine. He just wasn’t here.

Harry threw himself back onto the bed with a sharp exhale. He had thought that, after yesterday, they could maybe go back to how it was before - back when Harry didn’t have to pretend - but it was now very clear that they could never go back. He knew that he had gone too far yesterday; Draco wasn’t quitting, he was trying to keep himself safe.

Harry felt awful, physically and mentally. It was as though his sadness had managed to create actual pain within his body - his head was pounding, his muscles were aching and his back felt like it was caving in on him. He was immensely grateful for the fact that his lessons didn’t start until tomorrow, so he had the whole day to lounge around and feel sorry for himself.

He spent the day reading and napping, although he somehow managed to sleep through both breakfast  _ and _ lunch, so he found himself counting down the hours until dinner. He decided that, just before dinner, he would find Draco and apologise to him for what he had said yesterday. He knew Draco didn’t deserve that - he was giving up so much by agreeing to Harry’s idea, and Harry should never have made him feel bad for ending it. It wasn’t Draco’s fault that Harry had fallen in love with him.

As dinner time approached, Harry felt nauseous with nerves. He was used to speaking to Draco, so he didn’t know why he was so stressed about it right now. About half an hour before dinner, he reluctantly pulled himself out of bed, got dressed, and went to go knock on Draco’s door.

He had just lifted his hand up to knock, when Draco swung open the door, a look of shock on his face that likely matched Harry’s. It took Harry a moment to drop his hand that was raised in a fist.

“Hi.” He said dumbly, unsure of how to start.

Draco gave Harry a small smile. “Hi. Sorry, I was just on my way to the owlery to send a letter to Pansy.”

“Oh. Well, I can talk to you later, then.” Harry was about to turn around when Draco grabbed his arm.

“Don’t be silly. Walk with me.” Draco linked arms with Harry, pulling him along as he shut his door.

“Oh. Okay.” Harry cleared his throat nervously as they walked. “I just wanted to say… well, I thought you should know…”

Draco laughed slightly. “Breathe, Harry.” Harry tried not to think about the last time Draco had said those words to Harry, before they had kissed for the first time -  _ really _ kissed. “It’s just me.”

_ That’s the problem _ , Harry thought to himself, but he took a deep breath and spoke anyway. “I'm sorry. For what I said yesterday. Of course you’re not quitting, that was unfair of me to say. This has been difficult for you, and I should be thanking you for even agreeing to this in the first place.”

Draco looked slightly surprised, but smiled. “No need to apologise, Harry. I get it.”

“You do?”

“Of course. We’re friends now, and I was acting like we barely knew each other. Obviously, that was going to hurt you.”

Harry moved past the pain of hearing the word, ‘friends’, and focused on Draco’s understanding. “Wow. Thank you.”

There was a pause in conversation as they walked through the hallways for a moment or two, but Draco spoke again.

“Listen, I’m also sorry.”

Harry was shocked, his brow furrowed. “For what?”

Draco looked slightly guilty. “For leaving without saying goodbye this morning. That was sort of shitty of me.”

“Oh.” Harry wasn’t expecting that. “Don’t worry about it. It was… probably for the best, anyway.”

Draco nodded slightly, although he had an odd expression on his face that was hard to read.

They walked in silence until they arrived at the owlery, at which point they made conversation about what Draco had said to Pansy, and how she was doing in France, and so on. By the time they arrived back at the castle, they were basically back to normal and decided to both sit at the Gryffindor table together. When they sat down, Hermione smiled at Harry as though she knew that he was happy again. She probably did know - after all, she was much more observant than Harry.

They spent their dinner chatting and laughing together. Draco was back to joking with Ron and Hermione again, which Harry was glad about, but knew it couldn’t last long. After they had all finished eating, Harry and Draco were the first ones to leave, telling the others that they had some last minute preparation to do before classes started tomorrow.

They walked in comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other’s company. Harry barely noticed the slight pain in his head anymore. He barely noticed the tension that had been left between him and Draco that they would likely never get rid of. And he barely noticed when a group of boys seemed to gather behind the two of them.

Of course, he noticed all of these things as soon as he felt the sharp pain on his back.  _ Was that a hex? _ He thought to himself. He quickly realised that, no, it was not a hex, when he felt another sharp pain at his back that brought him to his knees. That was no hex. That was a kick. And then there was another kick, and another kick, and a punch to his face, and he scrambled to find his wand through the pain, but,  _ oh no _ , they snatched the wand out of his hand, and there were more punches and kicks, and  _ is that Draco yelling beside me?  _ And,  _ oh no _ , that was Draco yelling beside him.

It took all of Harry’s strength to fight past the punches and kicks he was receiving and turn his head to see Draco. Draco was covered in blood, his face twisted up in pain as three boys who Harry didn’t recognise beat the shit out of him. Harry was tired and he couldn’t bring himself to look and see who was beating the shit out of  _ him _ but he looked at Draco, letting out yells of pain, and Harry felt angry. Angrier than he had ever felt in his life. He received another punch to his face, but he didn’t care. In fact, he smiled. He smiled as he turned his head to look into the eyes of the boy who had hit him. The boy paused, confused at Harry’s expression.

_ You’re a wizard, Harry _ . That’s what Draco had said.  _ I’m no good at wandless magic _ .

Oh, but Harry was good at wandless magic. He felt it - all of his magic beneath the surface of his skin - he felt it buzz as he heard Draco’s pained cries. He closed his eyes and focused on it. He took a deep breath in, listening to Draco, feeling the kicks at his back, and with all the strength he had, let it out. He pushed it out, all around him, imagined it pushing away the others. He was met with silence, blissful silence, and he opened his eyes.

There were five of them in total. One was laying on his back behind Draco, two were in front of Draco, and two were in front of Harry. They were all laying on their backs, wincing, as though Harry had knocked them all out.  _ Good _ , he thought.

His head was pounding and every part of him was aching, but he stood up anyway. He walked (well, he supposed it was more like hobbling) over to Draco. He grabbed his arm and pulled him up, keeping a hold on his arm for support.

Draco was silent for a moment, seemingly in shock as he looked at the boys in front of him. “How… how did you do that, Harry?”

Harry didn’t know what to say. Truth be told, he didn’t know how he did it. He wasn’t even completely sure  _ what _ he did. He shrugged, even though it hurt to move. “They were hurting you.”

Draco looked at Harry, his grey eyes piercing through Harry’s. Harry wanted to ask him what he was thinking. He wanted to help him. He wanted to heal him. He wanted to suggest they go to the hospital wing.

But, before he could do any of that, Draco shook his head, walked over to one of the boys, yanked his wand out of his hand and walked away, blood still covering his face. He didn’t look back at Harry when he called out to him, and he didn’t look back at their attackers when one of them yelled out that word. The word that made Harry’s blood boil. He just… walked away.

Harry stood for a few moments, unsure of what to do. What did that mean? Why did he just walk away like that? What was he supposed to do with the boys laying on the floor around him?

He shook his head and took a deep breath, pulling himself together. He spotted the boy that had his wand and crouched down to his level with distaste. The boy tried to fight as he grabbed the wand, pulling it back, trying to keep it, but he was weak and gave up easily.

“Sick bastard.” The boy said, his voice weak, but his tone hateful.

“Fuck you.” Harry spat out.

He got up, glancing at the boys on the ground, before turning around and walking away, just as Draco had done.


	22. Chapter 22

Harry was on his way to the hospital wing, ready for Madam Pomfrey to heal his injuries, when he decided, _fuck this_. He turned around so fast that he had to pause for a moment because he had gotten rather dizzy all of a sudden, but as soon as he felt as though he wasn’t going to faint, he was practically jogging to the eighth year dorms.

He stormed through the eighth year common room - past the stares and the “are you okay”s and, oh yeah, he supposed he did look quite awful right now - and made his way to Draco’s room. He knocked on the door so hard and so fast that he was sure his knuckles would bruise if he continued for much longer, but luckily Draco answered the door rather quickly. The look on his face was a mixture of concern and annoyance, but he let Harry in without a word anyway.

Harry walked in and was about to sit on Draco’s bed but decided that this was more of a pacing-the-room kind of conversation, and so he did exactly that.

“Why did you just walk away? Why did you just leave me?”

Draco looked confused. “Would you stop pacing, Harry? It’s making me nauseous.”

Harry sighed heavily, but stood still anyway. “Why did you leave?”

Draco took a deep breath. “I’m sorry about that.” He went to sit on his bed and gestured for Harry to do the same, but Harry stayed standing. “We should… we _need_ to go ahead with the break-up tomorrow.”

Harry felt his heart flip. “Why?”

“This isn’t safe, Harry. We’re clearly both at risk here.” He pointed to his face, which was bruised and had some nasty cuts on it. At least he had washed off the blood, so he didn’t look so bad anmore. Harry knew that he probably looked much worse right now.

“I know.” Harry knew that, for Draco, cutting him off would be easy. “It’s just…” He took a deep breath. “Like you said, we’re friends now. And, it’ll be difficult to lose you. Can’t we… stay friends after the break-up?”

There was a long pause where Draco seemed to be contemplating what to say next.

“Harry, my…” His voice was quiet, so he cleared his throat and continued. “My father doesn’t… he’s not letting me see you anymore.” He looked up at Harry, and the look on his face made Harry want to cry. He was looking at Harry with fear in his eyes - but not the kind of fear that he had of his father - the kind that he had of Harry. He was afraid Harry would judge him.

“But.. he’s in Azkaban. How can he stop you?”

Draco looked down. “He owns all of my mother’s assets. He’s threatening to take them away from her if I continue to see you.”

Harry’s heart melted. “Draco…” He wanted to do something - to sit next to Draco and tell him he would be okay.

Draco straightened his back and looked up at Harry, looked into his eyes. There was no fear in his eyes anymore… There was nothing in his eyes anymore. He had put his walls back up, he didn’t show any emotion. “It’s okay.” He said, his voice firm. “I’ll be fine. We just… have to end this.”

Harry didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to lose Draco, but he didn’t really have a choice anymore. So, instead, he just nodded. “Okay.” He turned around to leave, but changed his mind and turned back again. “I’m sorry.” He said gently.

Draco swallowed. “You have nothing to apologise for.”

Harry’s voice was basically a whisper as he said, “Yes, I do.”

He turned to leave then, opening the door and only pausing when he heard Draco say, “You should get those healed. The bruises, I mean.”

Harry didn’t turn around. “You should, too.”

And with that, he left. He closed the door and walked to the hospital wing, feeling numb. When he arrived, Madam Pomfrey fussed over him and asked him what happened, but he simply sat there, waiting for this to be over. Waiting for everything to be over.


	23. Chapter 23

Harry woke up feeling awful. Today was the day he was going to lose Draco.

He moved through the morning in a haze, not allowing himself to think or feel, but there was a dull pain that seemed to be lodged in his mind and wouldn’t budge. The day went by in a blur - breakfast, lessons, lunch, more lessons, studying in the common room, and finally… dinner. Harry walked to the Great Hall slowly, as though trying to delay the inevitable. He knew that he shouldn’t have numbed his mind today - it would just make it even worse when he felt again. He tried not to think about it and to just let it happen, but for fuck’s sake, this was the person he _loved_.

When he entered the Great Hall, he was greeted by his friends at the Gryffindor table with a smile, but he saw Draco over at the Slytherin table and went to join him instead.

“Hey.” Draco said, forcing a smile. Harry didn’t know if he was performing yet, or if he really just couldn’t bring himself to smile.

“Hi.” Harry said as he sat down.

They exchanged pleasantries and ate for about 10 minutes, both of them keeping their mouths full as much as possible to avoid speaking about what was about to happen. After Harry almost choked on his food for the second time, Draco spoke, his tone soft but his words sharp.

He lowered his voice so only Harry could hear. “I guess it’s showtime. Are you ready?”

Harry wanted to say that no, of course not, he would _never_ be ready for this, but instead he just nodded and braced himself. He looked at Draco one last time. He looked at the soft beginnings of wrinkles on his face, and at his unsmiling mouth that Harry wished he could make turn up just once more. He looked at his piercing grey eyes and the single dimple on the left side of his face. He looked at his hair and how the light bounced off it slightly, knowing how soft it was, but also remembering that he would never touch it again.

Even as Draco began to talk, his voice loud and bitter, Harry looked at him, savouring him one more time before it was over.

“Why do you always have to be like this, Harry?” Draco’s voice finally pierced through Harry’s thoughts, bringing him back to reality. The room had gone silent, all eyes on them.

_Showtime_ , Harry thought to himself with a harsh numbness. “Oh, right, because _I’m_ the problem here?” He didn’t yell, but he said it loudly enough so that everyone could hear in the silence.

“Yes, I’m beginning to think you are.” Harry tried not to, but he looked into Draco’s eyes. He wasn’t surprised to realise that he saw nothing in them. Draco was truly excellent at putting up those walls.

“Well, if that’s how you feel, then why are you even with me?”

“I don’t know.” Draco said it particularly loudly, and Harry cringed at how much pain this brought him.

They paused for a moment, staring at each other, feeling everyone holding their breath in anticipation.

“Alright then.” Harry said.

“Fine.” Draco shot back.

“Guess this is the end.” Harry put as much malice into his words as possible, but found it difficult to speak to Draco in such a way.

“Guess so.”

“Perfect.”

“Fantastic.”

Harry waited another moment and then stood up rather dramatically, scraping the bench backwards and storming off. He slammed the doors to the Great Hall as hard as he could behind him, the resounding _bang_ resembling a gunshot, but even that couldn’t drown out the eruption of noise from the students on the other side of the door.

He stood for a moment, taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself down, which was ultimately useless and resulted in him practically sprinting back to his dorm. He kept it together the whole way, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, his breaths coming out fast. But, as soon as his dorm door shut, he collapsed onto his bed, sobbing loudly and wishing to never leave this spot ever again.

He stayed like that, frozen in time, for a long while. His sobs were so loud he barely heard the soft knock at his door that reminded him that other people did, in fact, exist.

“Who is it?” He called out, his voice wobbly and cracking.

“It’s Hermione and Ron.” Hermione’s voice was dripping with concern and Harry let out another sob at the sound of it, muting it with his hand.

“We just want to make sure you’re okay.” Ron’s tone was the same as Hermione’s.

Harry sniffed and said quietly, “Come in.”

The door creaked as it opened. Hermione took one look at Harry’s face and jumped into bed with him, toeing her shoes off as she went, with an “Oh, Harry”, as she wrapped her arms around him. Ron was slightly more reserved, but after shutting the door and watching the two for a moment, he chucked off his shoes and wiggled in next to them, rubbing circles onto Harry’s back.

Harry cried as they held and comforted him. He tried to warn them, tried to tell them that they didn’t know the whole story, but they waved him off and said, “we don’t need to, Harry. We love you” which made him cry even more. As he sat sandwiched in between his two best friends in the whole world, he realised nothing could ever be too bad if they were there. This was awful, but so was everything else he had endured in his short lifetime, and Ron and Hermione were always there to help him through it.

He cried for hours, and they stayed with him until he drifted off to sleep to the sound of his own tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm not updating as regularly as I hoped I would! I'm loving writing this!


	24. Chapter 24

Harry spent the next week in his room. He went to classes, of course, but he never showed his face in the Great Hall, or anywhere else, for that matter. Hermione and Ron would knock on his door and give him a bundle of food to keep him going before asking if he needed anything and leaving when he said no. Hermione completed his homework for him without asking, and Ron would come up to his room at lunch sometimes with a game or some sweets. He was extremely grateful for them, but he could only focus on what he had lost.

By Friday, the House Elves had started to send him packages of food, which Harry found both comforting and disturbing - his absence was being noticed. He wondered what people were saying about him, but quickly realised that’s not what he cared about. He cared about what _Draco_ was saying about him. He wondered if Draco was suspicious of his behaviour. It was a _fake_ break-up and Harry was acting as though it were a real one.

He asked Ron about this on Friday when he came to visit for lunch. They were both sitting on Harry’s bed, a pile of sweets in between them, munching away.

“How’s Draco doing?” Harry tried to ask casually, tried to pretend he hadn’t been trying to ask Ron for days, but Ron knew him too well and his eyebrows furrowed.

He paused to swallow before answering. “He… He hasn’t been around much.”

Harry frowned. “What do you mean?”

Ron shrugged. “He doesn’t come to dinner much, and whenever he does, he just looks… sad, I suppose. I only really see him in lessons, but I only have one class with him.”

Harry was surprised at this. Perhaps Draco was being affected by this break-up, too. Perhaps he felt more for Harry than just friendship. Harry shook that thought out of his mind. That couldn’t be it. He was likely just acting the part, pretending to be heartbroken.

“Is it hard for you?” Harry asked, the thought only just occurring to him.

Ron looked caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you guys became friends. And with him and I breaking up… you sort of had to choose me over him.”

Ron scoffed. “Mate, we’ll choose you every time.” His tone got serious all of a sudden. “He’s different… from what I thought he would be. But, no. It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

Harry felt a warmness in his chest. He really was grateful for his friends.

That evening, he decided it was probably time to start socialising again. Well, at least a little bit. He double-checked that Draco was in the library, opening and closing the map a few times. He knew he would likely be staying there for at least a couple of more hours - he worked best at night. After eating dinner in his room, he went down to the eighth year common room, taking a few deep breaths before entering.

He scanned the room as he walked in. About half of the eighth years were sitting in the middle of the room. Some were squished next to each other on the furniture, whilst others were dotted around on the ground, some sitting, some laying down. Harry remembered just how much he loved the common room. Everyone seemed comfortable and at peace when they were there - drinking in the warmth from the fire and lounging in the company.

He took a seat next to Ron and Hermione. Hermione was sitting cross-legged with her back against an armchair, and Ron was laying on his back with his head in her lap. He had his eyes closed, but he opened them when he heard Harry rummaging around next to him. He didn’t say anything, but he gave Harry a smile that was equal parts reassurance and pride, whilst Hermione beamed.

“Harry, it’s so good to see you.” She said to him, her voice low. She was careful not to attract attention to his presence, and Harry felt that warmness in his chest again.

Luna was on the other side of Harry, and she greeted him with her usual whimsical nature. “Hello, Harry.” She said, before grabbing his hand and lightly stroking it absent-mindedly as she paid attention to the conversation taking place beside her.

Harry paid attention, too, listening intently and even managing a laugh or two as he listened to Seamus tell a story. Harry had already heard the story at least twice, but enjoyed it nonetheless. After about half an hour, Luna left him, placing a gentle kiss on the top of Harry’s head and disappearing to her dorm. Harry was planning to leave, as well, but Seamus scooted closer to him and he decided that his bed could wait a little bit longer.

Seamus turned to Harry, a glint in his eyes that Harry had missed seeing. He kept his voice low, but his strong accent ensured Harry heard every word. “Listen, Harry, I know this week hasn’t been great for you, you know, with the Great Hall and everything, but I wanted to thank you.”

Harry’s brows furrowed. “What for?”

Seamus smiled and looked over at Dean on the other side of the room. “Because of you, me and Dean got together.”

Harry’s brows shot up. “Really? I mean, that’s great, but what did I have to do with it?”

Seamus caught Dean’s eye and gestured for him to come over. He spoke as Dean grinned and got up. “Well, I saw that you had come out, and I thought, if the bloody Saviour of the Wizarding World can admit it, why can’t I?” He spoke quickly, as usual. “So, I told Dean I’m gay, and he said that he’d been into me for a while now and, well, I suppose the rest is history.”

By this point, Dean had made it over to where Harry and Seamus were sitting.

“Are you boring yet another person with the story of how we got together?” Dean asked Seamus, a smile on his face.

Seamus put his arm around Dean and pulled him close. “I had to tell Harry, he’s the reason we’re together.”

Harry laughed. “Thank you, but it was all you guys, I’m sure.”

Dean shook his head. “Seamus is right, Harry. Now that you’re out, it’s easier for us to be out. It was… dangerous before.”

Seamus nodded his head enthusiastically. “Still is, of course, but people are warming up to it now that a celebrity’s gone and done it.”

Harry laughed again. “I’m happy for you guys.”

Dean smiled and Seamus placed a kiss on his cheek. “Harry, I was sorry to hear about you and Malf… Draco.” Dean said, his eyes sincere. “You know, I really thought that was it for you two. I thought… well, I guess I thought you guys would stay together.”

Seamus nodded. “When you guys got together, it felt like you had been leading up to it for years.” There was a pause where Harry worked out what he could respond to that, but Seamus spoke again. “And what his dad said to Rita Skeeter… It’s despicable. I’m really sorry.”

Harry nodded and smiled sadly. “Thanks, guys. It just… wasn’t meant to be, I suppose.”

The two hummed in agreement and went on to discuss quidditch, as though to lighten the mood, but Harry went up to his dorm shortly after their conversation anyway. He decided that he had done enough socialising for the day.

As he collapsed into his bed, he thought about what Seamus and Dean had said. He had never even considered the fact that his coming out would inspire others to do the same. And yet, the more he thought about it, the more he realised that, perhaps, that was why he had done it all along. Before he had made his agreement with Draco, he was in quite a dark place. It was so dark, in fact, that he hadn’t even realised he was in it until he started feeling happier again ( _with Draco_ , his mind added unhelpfully). He had denied his attraction to men over and over to himself until he started to believe it, and when he finally figured it out, he despised himself for it. He told himself it was wrong until he couldn’t do it any longer, at which point he had told Ron and Hermione that he was into Draco, beginning his whole plan.

It was all so clear now. He had never put his plan into place to avoid the group of girls following him about in the corridor, he had put it into place to avoid the group of men that wouldn’t leave his head.

He wished he could talk to Draco about this, about how he felt and what he had realised. He hadn’t just lost the man he loved, he’d lost one of his best friends, too. He was in the middle of feeling rather sorry for himself when there was a knock at the door. He instantly knew it was Hermione - she always knocked softly, as though she knew Harry had a headache and didn’t want to make it worse.

“Come in.” Harry called out.

Hermione came in with a cup of tea in her hand and Ron trailing behind her. She handed Harry the tea with a smile and sat down gently on his bed, taking Ron’s hand and pulling him down, too.

“Thanks, Hermione.” Harry said after he took a sip. It was just the way he liked it, with a splash of milk and a spoonful of sugar. The warmness in his chest intensified for the hundredth time that day.

“No problem, Harry.” There was such a fondness in Hermione’s eyes that Harry almost had to look away in fear of crying at the sight of them. “It was so nice to see you tonight. I know it can’t have been easy for you.”

“Yeah, it was great having you there.” Ron smiled.

Harry fought the urge to tear up at their kindness. It seemed he was always crying nowadays. “Thank you, guys. You’ve both been amazing about everything.”

“Don’t be silly, Harry.” Hermione said. “We love you. We just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Harry looked at the two of them, _really_ looked, and remembered that, he may have lost one of his best friends, but he didn’t lose all of them.

“I love you guys so much.” Harry took a deep breath. “And… I think I need to tell you the truth.”


End file.
